


Imperial Internship

by sparklight



Series: Space Race [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward family bonding, Drama, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 61,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darth Vader finally has his son, Luke Skywalker, in hand.</p>
<p>Now what?</p>
<p>A lot of drama, adventure, shenanigans, and awkward father-son bonding while we wind ourselves towards Operation Skyhook, is what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby Steps I

**Author's Note:**

> /throws confetti  
> Welcome to the second part of Space Race, and this one will be written in the same style as Consequences, which means a lot of shorter ficlets. This will also take longer because, compared to Consequences, I don't have a lot written beforehand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader has what he wants... now he actually has to _deal_ with having said thing, and the effects it'll have on him. Even if he doesn't realise it yet.

Focusing on the simple facts got Vader through the corridors and two more turbolifts to his quarters without any more... slips, happening. Obi-Wan had lied. But the boy was with him now, so nothing else mattered. Vader's hand at the small of Luke's back kept him moving - the boy had attempted to speed up to get in front of him a few times, after an initial minute or two of not noticing the gloved hand was there, but now he was just walking, accepting the touch. 

As it should be.

He acknowledged that if he attempted to actually grab the boy, his son probably had enough confused, angry fight in him to _actually_ put up a fight about where they were going (or that they were going anywhere at all), but he didn't need to do that at the moment.

Then there was the amount of meters between their current position and the goal to focus on, a number which was increasingly growing shorter, if not with the speed he would have preferred. The fewer who got a _good_ look at what the boy looked like, the better, and they passed far too many patrols for Vader's liking.

In the end, however, they got to the corridor that was indisputably _his_ , and the stormtroopers outside the door definitely from the 501st. Darth Vader would not admit to it, but a slight tension that had gripped him the whole trip from the hangar, which had nothing to do with the particulars of how his son had ended up where he had or anything else but was all about who else might see, bled out of him.

The child suddenly tensed as the doors swooped open, becoming negligently heavier and trying to push back against the hand on his back. Vader kept back a snort, if barely.

"Wait---"

Shifting the position of his hand to a shoulder, he shoved the boy inside and quickly followed to let the door close behind them. Luke whirled around to face him, seeming to hesitate between dropping his bags so he could more easily defend himself (against what, was the question) or clutching them closer.

He'd been about to reach for him, but then he paused and just... stared.

Blood thundered through his veins, echoing in his ears, pulsing through the half-healed wounds on his scalp. There was a low, dull ache winding through his body, scraping against his senses like the sand he had left behind decades ago.

The boy stared up at him, eyes wide, face still pale and a nearly cramp-tight grip on his bags, but his expression was dark and his chin was jutting out. Stubbornness and defiance bled out of every pore, and now Darth Vader had no idea how to take the next step. 

So instead, after a few minutes of silence - during which Luke had begun to shift, glancing around the room without turning away from him - he swept forward, ignored Luke's defensive, but quickly-contained wince and grabbed his arm, pulling him across the room, through the empty room beyond it and opened the next set of doors with the Force.

"Familiarise yourself with these rooms. They will be yours for the foreseeable future," he said as he pushed his son inside and then stepped back, the doors closing and locking.

Staring at the closed door, Darth Vader closed his eyes.

The superficial barrier did nothing; he could feel the child's presence like he was still standing right in front of him, a burgeoning bright flare in the Force that promised to turn into a sun, far beyond anything he'd ever felt.

Obi-Wan had lied to the boy.

His former master had told his son he'd killed his father. 

For what aim? The thought that seemed most obvious, but was also one even he had not thought Obi-Wan capable of, even after leaving him beside the river of lava on Mustafar, was that he'd been setting Luke up to 'avenge' his father. To do what Obi-Wan could not, and thus, in black, humourless irony, _actually_ kill his father, believing him to be his father's killer.

Leather creaking as his gloved fingers dug into his palms and the tension from gritting his teeth burrowed into his jaw and speared outwards, what drew him back was the tense jerkiness of Luke's Force presence, the wary nervousness and worry that flickered up only to be doused over with determination.

Turning on his heel, Vader stalked back the way he'd come, locking the first set of doors as well without thinking about it much and retreated to his hyperbaric chamber.

The helmet came off with the usual hissing pop, and Vader took a deep, slow breath.

Reached, almost reflexively, for the holodevice and datapad he kept in here and then paused. He didn't need to rely on the academy file holo, hastily captured surveillance holos or even the recording Admiral Mar'lath had made anymore. He could just... 

Hesitating, Vader slowly reached out and activated the video feed.

It was only installed in the first of the two rooms, though Luke would probably not be pleased by this knowledge either way - he'd promised himself he would only use it when absolutely necessary, but this first instance didn't count.

Staring at the screen as it lit up, he watched the boy hesitantly drop his bags on the floor, all the while he kept staring at the door as if it was about to open, and resisted blinking for as long as possible. Knew he shouldn't indulge at all - almost terminated the feed, because this was _not_ becoming---

Vader gently laid his hand down on the controls and didn't press the button to deactivate the feed as he watched the lights in the room slide off his son's darkening blond hair (the child needed a haircut, he was reminded), slither off the narrow shoulders not really hidden underneath the dark, nearly black, green cloak.

Watched as Luke glanced around sharply, then stomped up to the control panel for the door and tried fiddling with it. It didn't respond, of course. Both saw and felt the boy's frustration flash through him, across his face and through his presence in the Force. Tensed the cables and joints in his hand and arm with a thought, stilled trembling which shouldn't even be possible while Luke finally slammed a fist against the panel and turned around, slumping against the door.

Breath catching in his throat, the heightened oxygen and pressure in the chamber somehow not enough, Vader tightened his hand into a fist and slammed the feed off, carefully leaning forward and resting his face in one hand, the other clutching an armrest.

He had lost _so much time_ , and Obi-Wan had ensured their first meeting would _never_ be a simple reunion, whatever else the circumstances may have been.

Rage and frustration boiled up, sung through his veins and smothered a tiny, glittering shard that had felt nothing but a deep, triumphant pleasure from being able to rest his hand at the small of his son's back.


	2. Baby Steps II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets a chance to think and react about the reveal, what's going on, and where he is.
> 
> Not that that helps much.

Opening his eyes, Luke stared up at a ceiling as polished as the deck beneath his feet, and balled up his hands into fists, tensing them until his fingers ached and his nails dug into his palms.

His _father_ was _Darth Vader_.

The thought still barely made sense, despite the distance from the turbolift those words had been uttered in, despite the number of times it'd run through his head since then. It was hard to make sense of it when he could barely think from the press of Darth Vader's presence in the Force, livid and intense and _huge_ compared to Ben or Ahsoka... It was also cold. Shivering a little, even if the distance that seemed to be between them now helped a little, Luke rubbed his arms and thumped his head on the door again.

He'd need tools to get this door open, probably. Though even with that, there was the next set of doors... then the doors out into the corridor. And _then_ there were the stormtroopers outside, and a whole ship between him and the hangar... He wished at least Artoo was here. He'd have been a great help.

Rubbing his face, Luke looked around the room again. He'd barely even registered where he _was_ , now, though he remembered doors opening, remembered trying to put up _some_ sort of defense when the first doors opened because he'd _known_ those had been important.

Mostly because of the two stormtroopers that stood guard outside.

The room was large, with a viewport covering the wall on one end, a couch up against the wall on one side and a desk with a computer by the other. Eyeing it, Luke didn't harbour any illusions of what he'd be able to access with it, but it might have _something_ interesting, anyway. Opposite to the viewport-wall was a strangely carpeted area, though the machine which stood there was reasonably familiar from the Academy, which meant that was probably for exercising.

Rolling his eyes, Luke undid the clasp on his cloak and dropped it on the floor where he stood, intent on exploring---

And then froze, as he could swear he could hear Aunt Beru berating him.

With a grimace, Luke turned back around and picked up the cloak, throwing it over one shoulder. Fine. There should hopefully be a closet around here somewhere and he'd put it there until he could find some way to escape... stopping halfway to the viewport, Luke dropped his gaze to the floor.

Escape.

And go where?

Ben had _lied_. Swallowing, Luke frowned. Ben (and maybe Ahsoka?) had lied, but his father was Darth Vader and the Empire was awful, so what was he even going to _do_?

Swaying slightly on his feet, Luke admitted, silently and very, very hesitantly, that he... wanted to get to know the man. Hand straying up to where the necklace hung beneath his tunic, Luke felt along the shape of it. He must have loved once, right? His _mother_ must have loved him. _That_ couldn't have been a lie, not with this and what people had said...

He remembered, suddenly, the spike of angered regret and livid sorrow he'd felt in his mother's tomb, as well as the awed happiness at Varykino. Clutching the necklace through the cloth, Luke tensed his jaw.

No, that couldn't have been a lie.

Remembered the hand at the small of his back, but that brought up a more conflicted jumble of feeling angry and _herded_ as well as something he wasn't sure what it was. Groaning, Luke shook his head and turned away from the viewport - he'd just now actually registered it was only showing hyperspace, and he knew from experience what that felt like to stare at for a longer stretch of time.

Walking back to the other end of the room, there were two doors to choose from - the first being a 'fresher, which was, obviously, not as large as the one in the palace in Aldera, but it _still_ had both a bathtub and a shower. Thinking of that made him think of Leia, however, and that he couldn't really call her and tell her he was all right, which left a lump in his stomach.

Backing out of the 'fresher quickly, Luke opened the second set of doors, _almost_ hoping it'd lead into another empty room and a roundabout way out into the corridors. Despite that he sort of wanted to stay, if only for... for the fact that his... his father was here (and that was still hard to grasp, but Vader had no reason to claim it if it wasn't true). 

Of course, the doors didn't lead out.

They just led into an actual bedroom, and that was actually a relief in some way; he'd half wondered if he'd have to set up camp on the couch over by the viewport or something, but no, apparently not. Equally as large as the other room, the biggest difference was that the viewport was slightly smaller, and there was no exercise area - that end of the room had another set of doors Luke was pretty sure would lead to a bafflingly large closet, same as in Aldera.

The bed wasn't exactly as large as the one he'd had during his stay on Alderaan, but it was still _unnecessarily_ large.

Standing in the doorway and glancing between the two rooms, Luke slumped against the doorframe, keeping the door unintentionally open, and rubbed his face.

What was he even supposed to _do_ with all this?

He should've taken another ship. If he hadn't gone with Han and Chewbacca, he wouldn't be here. Wouldn't have to deal with the fact that Darth Vader was his father, would still...

Would still think his father was dead and murdered by Vader's hand.

Why had Ben _said that_?

Kicking the doorframe, Luke pushed away from it and stomped over to his bags, dragged them into the bedroom and slammed his hand on the controls for the closet door, barely looking when he dropped the bags on the floor - he wasn't sure he wanted to unpack, that felt _much too permanent_ \- and simply hung the cloak on the nearest bit that would keep it off the floor.

The angry boil in his stomach didn't settle when he collapsed face-first on the bed, and Luke punched the mattress, then just... slumped.

His father was Darth Vader.

How had that even _happened_? How had Anakin Skywalker gone from... what he'd been, to--- what was out there, the huge, angrily cold presence in the Force?

The necklace his mother had worn dug into his collarbone.


	3. Baby Steps III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader lays down a few facts about how things are going to be from now on, and then gets an unpleasant surprise.

He'd let his duties call him away for a few hours. There wasn't much that needed to be dealt with at at the moment, being in hyperspace as they were, but it would give the boy some time to acclimatise himself to the current reality. That Vader could have gone to talk to his son _before_ he'd left for the bridge and, after that, a meeting, was a thought only briefly considered and quickly discarded.

It was better to give Luke some time. That was all. It had nothing to do with the stunned, nearly betrayed disbelief and shocked anger, the confusion... or his own uncertainty. He now _had_ the boy, _finally_ ; all he needed to do now was to slowly set his plans into motion, and in this patience was surely better, even if he'd already lost a lot of time.

The situation wasn't ideal, no, and not just because of all that lost time. The issue also lay in the fact that while the Death Squadron lost ships only rarely and had lost its flagship only once (ending with the _Devastator_ as its current one), that didn't take away from the reality that it was a warship and they were often engaged in combat.

A warship that he had to keep his son on, since there was no other _permanent_ alternative as of yet. The boy wasn't trained enough for the safest location Vader could put him in; in a few months, perhaps. Up until then, however, this would be a careful balance of keeping the child secure, safe from both whatever combat they would end up in and those who would use his existence if they found out exactly who he was, and actually attempt to do something about the rather pathetic state of the boy's training.

What had Obi-Wan been _doing_ with his son? Almost eighteen years and Luke seemed to be as new to the Force as a toddler (or as new as he, himself, had been at nine, brought to the temple, but that was a thought better left unexplored).

Opening the door to the first room of the two he'd assigned to Luke, a droid on his heels, Vader swept inside and found it empty. Not that there was anything to worry about; the bright, if definitely anxious and restless light of the boy was in the next room over. Stalking over and opening that one as well, it took a surprising amount of control not to simply continue right up to the bed and demand the boy sit up straight and face him.

"Luke," he said, keeping his voice carefully flat not to betray the frustration he already felt, especially when the boy, laying face-down and partially off the bed, didn't do much more than twitch. He was awake, however, so he was well-aware Vader was standing in the doorway. Seeing that, it was even harder to abide by the one rule he'd set for himself when it came to his son and these rooms.

"Come here." There was a growl there now, but while the sense of the boy twitched in reaction, there was no spike of fear. Wariness, yes, but no fear. He would have been impressed (was, reluctantly, proud and pleased) if it wasn't working distinctly _against him_ right now. 

Another few moments of unmoving silence, and then Luke _finally_ rolled to sit up on the bed, frowning up at him. Confusion, wariness and a very faint, but undeniable thrum of _wanting_ sung through the Force when his son saw him. 

It wasn't much, but perhaps it'd do.

" _What_?" Luke muttered, crossing his arms and completely ignoring the earlier demand to leave the bed and get over to where Vader was by the door. Vader had to clutch his belt more firmly not to move.

"We have things to discuss," he said slowly. Luke didn't move, even if there was a spike of wary - eager - expectation from him. Why hadn't he been taught to _shield_? Not that Vader was particularly distraught over that at the moment, since it certainly helped him read the boy better. Even if it didn't help his _patience_. "And if you are not interested in food, I will send the droid back."

"What? No!" Almost immediately, the boy scrambled off the bed and stormed past him with all the lack of care and single-minded determination a hungry adolescent possessed, and Vader turned around in time to watch Luke sit down by the empty end of the computer desk, which now bore the plate the droid had brought with it.

The child glanced up at him with a frown, touching a slightly bulky spot underneath his collarbone, but then dug right in. It gave Vader a moment to liberate the _other_ things the droid had been carrying, dropping the folded clothes and the armour on the couch and turning the helmet, its mask and visor currently disengaged, over in his hands.

"What's---" 

He didn't need to tell the boy to finish chewing, because it seemed that Owen and Beru Lars had, at least, instilled good manners in his son. The next time he tried to finish his question, Luke spoke without there being food anywhere except on his plate.

"What's _that_?"

The disapproving frown, especially as he glanced between the helmet in Vader's hands and the one that _Vader_ wore, was entirely unnecessary, however.

"An Inquisitor's uniform. You will be---"

"A _what now_?" Luke had gone stiff with alarm, and it was clear that he knew, exactly - or rather, knew as much as any Academy cadet would about the Inquisitors, in addition to what Obi-Wan had probably told him. "I'm not wearing that."

"You _will_ , if you value your safety and wish to leave these quarters," Vader said sharply, his voice a deep rumble but not quite echoing. Luke, to his credit, didn't cower; only straightened up, his eyes flashing in the artificial light.

"You can't just _keep me locked in here_! That's not---" his offended cry trailed off as he frowned, apparently _actually_ registering what Vader had said beyond 'you can't leave if you don't do what I say'. Which, well, was absolutely true, but Darth Vader would like to think that in this instance he had reasons that even the boy, trusting him or not, could understand. "'My safety'? What'd you mean by that?"

Dropping the helmet on top of the clothes and the other armour pieces on the couch, Vader crossed his arms while he stared at his son, waiting until the child reluctantly started eating again. It took longer than he thought it would. The boy was _stubborn_.

"There are those who would use you if they knew of your existence. Pretending that you are in the latter stages of training as an Inquisitor ought to keep most scrutiny off you, but that means you _will_ wear that uniform and the helmet, mask up, at all times outside these quarters."

Luke grimaced, and he _almost_ heard a thought that sounded very much like a sulky 'you just want me to look like _you_ ', but Vader didn't push into the agitated presence and mind of the boy, and the not-quite-words disappeared, lost to him.

"Fine," the boy muttered, poking at the remains of his early dinner - shipboard time early, which meant Coruscanti time early - and then glanced up again, "anything _else_?" Sulky annoyance again.

"You will show me how far Obi-Wan has got in your training at the earliest opportunity, and then I will continue it." This was non-negotiable, and his voice was durasteel. Not just because to be able to put Luke where he would be best protected, the boy _needed_ to have more control, but also because he wasn't leaving Obi-Wan's shoddy work as it stood, and definitely would not leave the child vulnerable if any confrontation with his Master happened earlier than he would wish.

Luke frowned, opened his mouth and then closed it again, his presence in the Force agitated but no feelings formed clearly enough to be easily read. Darth Vader could _guess_ what his son didn't like about that but wasn't sure about articulating because _he_ hadn't mentioned the dark side. In this, his son was foolish, because it would be nothing _but_ the dark side he would teach him. No more weakness.

"I don't have a lightsaber," Luke said instead, pushing the empty plate away and standing up, clearly not liking having had to sit down during this discussion. Not that it really mattered; even standing up Luke wasn't very tall. Taller than his mother, yes, but not close to Vader's own height, even when he'd been younger. The boy clearly favoured his mother in stature and build---

He pushed that thought away and ignored the stab of pain that went through him. He _also_ decided to be generous and ignore the flicker of a lie that had shaded Luke's statement, because it wasn't a _complete_ lie. The boy didn't have a lightsaber on him, otherwise it would've been found when his belongings had been searched, and whatever other lightsaber he might have used with Obi-Wan he obviously didn't have access to right now.

"I have spares you can borrow for practice," he said, watching his son perk up a little - predictable, as much as any youngling offered the chance to learn more with the lightsaber. He hesitated, then, standing there watching the boy glance up at him periodically, that frown still in place. There was so much he wanted to know, but how to get them out of the boy without inviting questions from Luke, Vader didn't know. He was thus tempted between simply turning around and leaving, informing him they would start tomorrow, or---

"I am sure you have further talents, aside from your strength in the Force." Vader had to admit, he was almost as surprised as Luke was when the words came out of him, and again, there was that brief, almost aborted little motion to a spot underneath the collarbone from Luke, before he shrugged.

"... I can repair droids and moisture vaporators," he said, rolling his eyes a little, exasperation, annoyance and a distinct flare of _homesickness_ blooming out through the Force when he mentioned 'moisture vaporators'. Vader, despite the annoyance - and, on some level, understanding - that came with even such a vague, roundabout mention of his son's guardians, kept his silence. "And I can fly. I mean, I've only flown a Skyhopper, but I'm _good_ at it. I want to be a pilot."

Luke shifted a little on his feet and looked up at him again, bright, pale eyes heavy with something, a question Vader probably didn't want to answer, but he was somewhat distracted by the simple happiness that had nearly exploded from his son at the thought of _flying_ , the yearning and remembered excitement that was... painfully, delightfully, all too familiar.

As such, he did not react in time to stop what came next.

"Ben told me... that you were a good pilot," Luke said, curiosity and yearning which nearly immediately twisted around into shock at the instant flare of anger from Vader at the mention of Obi-Wan. Vader quickly reined it in and nodded curtly.

"I... was. Am." Quiet, fierce pride that he couldn't mask, despite that he did not get much chance to fly anymore. Despite that it was routine these days, bringing no real joy. Except, apparently, Luke's own reaction and his comment had drawn memories up, had stirred what had once been the definitive, almost reflexive, reaction upon seating himself in a cockpit. And clearly he'd stayed too long; would have to consider ways to get what he wanted to know from Luke without, again, getting questions or comments about his past in return.

"We will start tomorrow," he said shortly and turned on his heel to leave, the droid picking up the remains of Luke's dinner.

"Wait!"

He wouldn't have stopped, except there was... something... in Luke's voice. So he turned around to see the boy pull a necklace over his head, the thing that, clearly, had been the little lump he'd been touching earlier. 

A necklace that...

" _Where_ did you get that?" He couldn't leave, and he couldn't storm up and snatch the thing that dangled from Luke's hand, light sliding off the pale Japor ivory and the darker, carved lines. 

All he could do was stand there and _stare_ , remembering it hanging from... from _her_ neck, against a pale blue nightdress that swelled outwards from the growing life within her. Remembering being young and foolish and _hopeless_ (and so full of hope), giving it to her for the first time. Remembered---

"Ryoo gave it to me. She had it, but thought I should have it," Luke said quietly, eyeing him as if he was liable to explode, which... was probably not far from the truth. He reined himself back in, and the soft clatter of metal silenced. "I thought... do you want it back?"

Did he _what_?

He almost reached out with the Force to crush it, turn it into so many splinters. Consign it to destruction like... she had been destroyed. Like his earlier, weak self had been destroyed. 

Almost, except he remembered the way Luke had touched it, hidden under his clothes. 

Thought of her, and watched the boy, _their child_ (she'd thought it'd be a boy), standing there with the necklace hanging from his hand.

"Keep it."

Darth Vader turned on his heels and stormed out.


	4. Comm Conversations I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader follows up a loose thread left behind after Talzin scared Luke off Naboo.

"Lord Vader," Mother Jade stared impassively at the black, opaque mask she was faced with, head cocked and seemingly unperturbed at having been called up again for the first time in weeks, "Talzin lost the target, but it shouldn't take her long to pick up the trail again."

"There will be no need," Darth Vader said, shaking his head. Feeling, again, a surge of triumphant pleasure at that thought. "Your Nightsister scaring him off Naboo ended with him in Imperial custody. She will be paid the full amount."

Mother Jade raised an eyebrow at that, and then, for the first time since he'd met her as they currently were, she unwound. Just a shade, a slight twitch of tension unknotting in her shoulders and the dip of her head carrying none of the usual resentment.

"Very generous, Lord Vader." There wasn't even a trace of mocking sharpness there, at least for the moment. Vader held no illusions that it would last. "That is all?"

He almost told her that it was. 

Almost simply nodded curtly and disconnected, but instead he paused, eyes narrowing. The wounds on his head throbbed quietly. He could use this, for so many different things. On the other hand, keeping in... relatively good standing with Mother Jade would, potentially, be worth more than antagonising her and using her Nightsisters willy-nilly.

So, instead...

"It is, Mother Jade. The Nightsister remaining available, however, if..." he paused, because the very thought was enraging and made thick, black fury descend over his vision for a moment. He kept himself carefully controlled with some effort; this was about preventative measures and making sure that if anything did go wrong, it would last for as short a time as possible. "If he manages to leave or is taken away. She would be provided with similar compensation for future services."

He did not like having to put that out there, because once again that was revealing too much, making himself vulnerable. 

Mother Jade stared for a moment, and then chuckled, sharply. The mocking edge was back.

"It wouldn't _surprise me_ if something like that happened. Skywalkers _always_ have the tendency to do what you don't want them to," Mother Jade said, sounding both amused and annoyed at the same time. Darth Vader sat, still and sullen, waiting.

"Talzin will be available if any further incidents occur, Lord Vader. But _only_ if it concerns this particular target. I am not in the business of handing out Nightsisters left and right." Mother Jade's sharp, slightly raspy voice descended into spiteful rage as she glared at him. It took a lot of effort not to snap something out about how clearly that was a _recent_ policy change.

Instead he twitched his head, barely enough to incline his helm in an even shallower imitation of Mother Jade's earlier shallow dip of her head.

"Indeed."

He cut the transmission and sat back, closing his eyes.

It wouldn't happen. He would not be losing his son, not now. This was just about putting measures in place in case _everything_ collapsed and it did happen. But it _would not_. He tightened a fist and squeezed until the joints almost locked up and the leather creaked.


	5. Comm Conversations II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka and Obi-Wan react to seemingly having lost Luke. Ahsoka isn't pleased. At all.

Ahsoka had, of course, known exactly who it was that would be on the other end of the comm when the holo lit up, but she was, nonetheless, disappointed. Because Obi-Wan's face didn't speak of _success_ merely tired resignation and worry.

"Well?" she said - all right, _snapped_ , but she couldn't help it. Obi-Wan shook his head, lowering it a little and stroked his beard.

"I came back from the Lars farm an hour ago. They've acquired two new droids," he said, and Ahsoka let out a harsh sigh, forcibly calming herself less she start yelling, "they were left there by an individual who apparently had been paid to take Luke to Tatooine, but they got picked up by an Imperial cruiser." There was a quirk to Obi-Wan's lips, right then, though it was short-lived.

"He didn't elaborate as to _why_ , but this does tell us Luke is in the hands of the Empire. I left Artoo and Threepio on the farm for now."

Ahsoka felt like screaming.

Instead, she sat down and frowned.

"What do we do?"

She considered the possibility of infiltrating Mustafar and the Inquisitorius... it could be possible. Or, if Luke wasn't there yet, whatever holding cell, probably on Carida or maybe Arkanis or Anaxes, he might have been put in, since whatever arrest had been out would most probably have been out for desertion, nothing else.

"We let him go." Obi-Wan looked pained, like he literally had a lightsaber shoved through his gut as he said that, and well he _should_. 

Ahsoka stared for a long moment, utterly aghast and completely unable to formulate a response at first, even less her thoughts.

"We--- We do _what_?! Ob--- Ben, we can't just---!" she sputtered into silence, mostly because she couldn't finish. Teeth bared and half-standing out of her seat, gripping the edge of the table. She couldn't _believe_ she was hearing this. 

Just let Luke _go_? 

The thought stabbed through her like the lightsaber that seemed to be lodged in Obi-Wan's gut, and dragged memories out of her with it. Remembered sitting on the couch in her suite in the palace in Aldera, telling Luke silly anecdotes of Anakin in-between training. Remembered lending him her shoto when he asked about her dual-wielding, and Luke automatically copying (probably without even thinking about it, he picked up things like that easily, she'd noticed) her reverse grip.

Remembered talking, quietly, about how Anakin had been as a teacher, the moments she'd seen between Anakin and Padmé, which, afterwards like this, were glaring signs. Remembered teaching him during a few sessions, just to get him started, how to dual-wield using the reverse grip.

"We need to focus on Leia. Make sure she is safe, _especially_ if Luke..." Obi-Wan couldn't finish, and Ahsoka was viciously glad about it. He still looked distinctly pained.

"We train her?"

"Not until we know with certainty that we... have lost him. Until then, Leia remaining untrained is far safer for her."

And for _them_ , was silent but there.

Ahsoka glared, drawn between several choice words, but in the end cut the transmission without saying anything at all. If only she could remember what had been familiar with the woman who'd attacked Luke in his cousin's house, maybe that would give her a lead to work from... After a moment of staring at the dark holotransceiver, she folded over, hiding her face in her hands.

But she had nothing, and this was _not_ how it was supposed to go. 

What had Luke even _seen_ to make him run like he had? 

What had gone _wrong_?


	6. Baby Steps IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader makes an initial inquiry about Luke's Force- and lightsaber skills. It probably goes about as well as it could (perhaps even surprisingly well).

Patting at his hair and feeling like it was _way too short_ again, Luke grimaced. Not that it was actually that much shorter than it'd been yesterday. The little droid had only snipped off the worn ends and evened out what was, admittedly, a rather uneven growth, something which Luke had only realised after the fact. But that the haircut had happened at all after he'd resolved to grow it out didn't make him happy.

Being threatened with not getting to leave the room for the promised lightsaber test and 'I have two hours set aside for this, young one. After that I have other duties to attend to. I can wait.' made him even _less so_.

Funny thing was, Luke thought as he glanced around the room, gaze drawn by the racks of shut down droids by the far end, it hadn't exactly felt like Vader had been entirely truthful with the 'I can wait' bit. In fact, it'd very much felt like---

"What has Obi-Wan taught you?"

Luke tried to ignore the little shiver that went down his spine at the rumbling baritone, the doors swooping closed behind Darth Vader as he entered what Luke supposed was a duelling room of some kind. It wasn't really the voice that caused the reaction, not really; it was the frozen tower of black light that pulsed just outside his awareness, much too close with Vader only meters away. Turning around to face him, Luke really couldn't understand how they were supposed to be _related_.

But he'd been turning Vader's claim over almost all night, throwing it back into the Force, and all he got was the same weighted sense of truth.

It wasn't a lie.

Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker (even if he denied the name itself) and... Anakin Skywalker was his father. The question was what he was going to _do_ with that knowledge. He still didn't know, but maybe he didn't have to figure it out right now. 

Or even any time soon. 

But definitely not right now, because right now Vader was staring down at him from his position just a few steps inside the door, his emotions and presence more of a dark, restrained tangle than anything Luke could decipher, right hand on the belt and the left holding an extra lightsaber.

"Uh..." Suddenly unwilling to mention that his training basically amounted to barely three weeks, _in total_ , Luke glanced around the room before his eyes fell back on the lightsaber clutched in a gloved hand. Darth Vader's own lightsaber hung from his belt; the one in his hand seemed to have a curious curve to its hilt and a strangely segmented design.

Flexing one hand, Luke squinted a little, resisted the urge to lift his hand since that would give him away and carefully reached out in the Force. Uncertain whether he was trying to surprise Vader (which was probably a dangerous idea either way), or whether he just didn't want to get close to the cold that thrummed around the Dark Lord.

Either way, he closed his mental 'hand' around the lightsaber and _yanked_.

For one, perfect second, he had it. Metal slid against leather fast enough the lightsaber would've gone flying across the room despite the resistance, but then Vader _shifted_ and closed his hand around the hilt. Instantly, that placid, frozen sun flared up with some unreadable intent that made Luke stumble back half a step, drop his grip on the lightsaber and left him looking warily up into the opaque, red-tinted eyeholes of the mask.

The sun went back to sleep (relatively, anyway), and there was a twitch of an incline to the helmet after more than half a minute of nothing.

"You may wish to be careful about taking weapons without prior warning, young one," Vader said, and there was a note of steel there that was an uncomfortably sharp reminder of whatever had just _almost_ happened, but hadn't. Luke crossed his arms and looked away.

"You were gonna give it to me later _anyway_. Just thought I'd speed it up," he said, unwilling to admit he'd been... startled, by it. All right, _afraid_ , because there'd been very real intent to _act_ for a moment there, before Vader caught himself. Luke had the distinct impression that if he wasn't who he was, Vader _wouldn't_ have held back.

He wasn't sure he liked that thought, even if it also was a relief.

"If you can take it, we will move on to your lightsaber skills for a moment," Vader said after another drawn-out silence, and Luke blinked. 

It wasn't... really... an apology, but it also sort of _was_. And that was just _weird_. Frowning, Luke shifted forward again, glancing from the mask down to the lightsaber now clutched visibly firmly in Vader's gloved hand.

Well...

Hesitating for a few more seconds, Luke closed his eyes and reached towards the lightsaber again, but this time there was no give it all. Not even a momentary slip of metal against leather. Frowning, Luke put more concentration in it... more _force_ , trying to yank like before... and then to gently worm it out of Vader's hand by wriggling it. 

Then pulling at it again.

But no matter _what_ he did, he couldn't move it at all, and soon his teeth were gritted, there was a taste of iron in his mouth, and underneath the determination...

"Use it."

Startled, Luke swayed back, snapping his eyes back open.

"What?"

" _Use_ that frustration. It will get you further---"

"No." Scowling, and suddenly feeling uneasy again, Luke shook his head and blew at the fringe that had fallen over his forehead - with the haircut it was nowhere near being long enough to fall in his eyes, but it was still tickling him. Darth Vader stared at him silently, and Luke straightened up and crossed his arms again.

"You are young and foolish," Vader said, and Luke _almost_ rolled his eyes, but didn't; mostly because he wasn't certain what sort of reaction that would get. Uncle Owen would only lecture, perhaps give him an extra chore to do. Vader... who knew. 

"What else?"

Oh, right, they were _doing something_ here.

Eyeing the Dark Lord, Luke wondered if, instead of yanking on the lightsaber he should just try to levitate Vader over to him - that would show him he could do that too, _and_ get the lightsaber to him. Probably not a good idea, though, and he further wasn't sure he _could_ lift Vader...

"A wise choice," Vader said, voice rumbling with... was that amusement?

"You can _read my mind_?" Luke sputtered, caught more on that than the fleeting awareness of what did indeed seem like dark amusement.

"You are not shielding; I will rectify this oversight at a later dater. But no, I wasn't. You were simply projecting your thoughts and intent loud enough they were impossible _not_ to pick up on."

Luke wasn't sure he believed him, but just grimaced and shrugged.

"Levitation, and telekinesis," he said, even if it was obvious Vader had picked up on that; the words sat strangely in his mouth sometimes, still relatively new, "reading people? Like... intents and emotions. And using the Force to help with physical stuff, like balance and jumping." He brightened at that thought; he liked those parts a lot. Knew, now, that that was how it'd started to look like he was cheating or something on the physicals at the Academy and why any of this had started _at all_.

At least now he could apply it consistently.

"And how long have Obi-Wan been training you?" Vader asked suddenly as he finally walked further into the hall, and Luke resisted the urge to back up a step and stayed still as Vader came closer, then held out the extra lightsaber. Taking it gingerly, he slowly turned it over in his hands, quickly finding the activation button and the adjustment control.

"... um. Around three weeks," Luke muttered, since there was no way to avoid it now. He hadn't actually thought up a good amount of time to put in its stead either, so his attempt at lying would probably have been too obvious. To avoid having to stare into the opaque mask and endure what would probably be disappointment, Luke pressed the button to activate the lightsaber.

If Vader made any noise from that revelation of how long he'd been training, the sudden hum from the lightsaber hid it.

The blade was purple, startling him - his (his father's) lightsaber was blue, as was Obi-Wan's. Ahsoka's were white, but that was still closer to the blue ones than this purple blade was. The lightsaber itself was also somewhat lighter and definitely slimmer than his father's, which made it feel like it sat rather oddly in his hand.

"Do you... er, have another I could use? In _addition_ to this one, I mean," Luke said as he finally looked back up at Vader, who was now staring down at him silently. How he could tell, he wasn't exactly sure - there was only a negligible change in the tilt of the helm, but Luke swore it was there.

Vader whirled around, striding over to the back wall next to the rack of droids and opening a panel that had, until it slid aside, seemed part of the wall itself. The cabinet behind wasn't _loaded_ with lightsabers (perhaps that would've been cliche), but there were three in there, neatly slotted into the back of the cabinet.

One was removed and Vader came back, holding that one out too.

Luke wondered if it was good or bad that the man was so _silent_... Shaking that thought away, he managed a brief smile as he took the second one. Taking a step away from the Dark Lord as he shifted the new hilt in his grip and, feeling it out, found the button and lit it. Swung the two blades experimentally and then almost jumped out of his skin.

" _What_ do you think you are doing?" Darth Vader snapped, waving a hand at him, and Luke took a startled step away, nearly reflexively swinging the main blade up in a defensive pose, holding the second blade back.

"What? This isn't _wrong_ , is it? This was how---" Snapping his mouth closed, Luke swallowed Ahsoka's name with a sudden flush of guilt and panic, and quickly shifted the second blade into a normal grip instead of the reverse one. 

What if he had just given Ahsoka away? Was that good or bad? What did his... what did Vader think of his former apprentice?

Did he even know she was _alive_?

"My... former apprentice insisted on bad lightsaber habits, and I know she hasn't rectified this recently. I will not have you pick them up as well," Vader growled, a finger in the air between them. "If you _insist_ on using dual lightsabers, son, you will _not_ use the reverse grip."

Something turned, nervously, uncertainly, from the way Vader called him 'son', but Luke clung to the fact that apparently Vader had already known that Ahsoka was alive. He still had no idea what he thought about it, but at least he hadn't actually revealed her existence. And then he frowned.

"I like it. It feels right and seems like it'd work really well--- hey!"

Luke managed to _barely_ stop the second blade from flying out of his hand, clutching it tight. Then stared, resisting the urge - again - to step back as Vader grabbed his own lightsaber and lit it.

"Since she has already turned you on this path, show me how much you know," Vader paused, staring down at him, and this time Luke _did_ roll his eyes, because he was pretty sure what was coming, and then it _did_ ; " _without_ using the reverse grip."

There was a curious amount of non-lethal poison in Vader's voice, kind of like... disgust? It was almost amusing, and Luke swallowed down a hesitant grin.

"Okay."

The next fifteen minutes was some of the most nerve-racking he'd experienced so far. Because no matter if Darth Vader _was_ Anakin Skywalker, having him bear down on him with a sort of single-minded, if, again, non-lethal, intent, was... pretty scary. Getting the comment of 'you have a long way to go, young one, but that was, nonetheless, impressive.' made what Luke swore was at least three heart attacks worth it, though.


	7. Baby Steps V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Status quo is upheld in the Empire, Luke disapproves and tries to find something to distract himself from it.

Luke had woken up to the view of a planet hanging far below the viewports in his rooms, and the surface shimmering with flashes of plasma, reflecting through the cloud layer. Staring down at it and watching the distant wedge-shaped shadows of three other Star Destroyers, the sun in this system flashing off their angled planes, Luke frowned.

Felt the Force trembling distantly, agonised flashes of---

He turned away from the viewport.

This wasn't anything unusual, of course. They'd been taught about 'pacifications' in the Academy, and of course Darth Vader's squadron would be party to some of them, at least. Why wouldn't it? They couldn't hunt rebels _all_ the time. That didn't mean it was _right_. 

_Where_ were they, anyway?

Shuffling out of the bedroom after a shower and having unearthed clothes from his bags, Luke had already sat down in front of the computer before he realised that there was a covered tray set on the empty workspace, and a depowered droid by the door.

Breakfast.

Staring at it, Luke swallowed.

Two days since he ended up here, and yesterday, what with the questions and the testing with the lightsabers, had been tense, but it'd... sort of felt okay. And now this, and he didn't even know if he wanted to - _could_ \- eat---

His stomach complained, and Luke let out a huff.

Fine, he'd eat.

But only because his stomach insisted.

Fiddling with the computer while he ate, Luke wasn't actually very optimistic it'd be of much use, but when he requested the current location, it brought up the planet's name and sector location, as quick as you please. Frowning, Luke had, of course, not heard about it. Some Falleen colony planet, apparently.

He wasn't really _surprised_ , but it made him angry all over again, especially when he reluctantly thought of where a lot of those Falleen would be going at the end of this. And considering where Vader had started out, how _could he_... Groaning, Luke pushed the empty tray away and slumped back in the chair, throwing an arm over his face.

Watched the droid power up, pick up the empty tray and leave from under his arm. Had a brief thought of following right behind the droid and get out, just to see if he could and get to see something else. Go against the overbearing demand he stay in here and the... concern... about his safety. Was it _really_ that dangerous if anyone saw him? It wasn't like they'd know who he was just because they'd seen his face or anything.

And anyway, why was Darth Vader even worried that people who were on _his side_ would do something..?

Groaning again, Luke scrubbed his face. He didn't understand and he didn't _know_. Wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to know. Turning to the computer again, Luke found what was very clearly educational files - glanced over a few of the historical ones and snorted when he caught the differences between what was very clearly Official Imperial History and the files he'd read on Tatooine. Those had been cheap, old ones that had been made in Hutt space, and he hadn't thought about it, but the differences were glaringly obvious now.

Like how the Jedi had all been described as _troublesome meddlers_ in the pay of the Republic Senate, going where they weren't needed or wanted and, when the Clone Wars happened, the Senate had, in their squabbling impotence (and what else was to be expected by a government that wasn't under the purview of the Hutts?), turned to the Jedi to protect them, handing over their army of clones for the Jedi to lead. Which, obviously, had worked out pretty well until the end. Which wasn't, of course, what these official educational files were describing.

Grimacing, Luke flicked through the relevant file, but it said nothing - traitors conspiring to take over the Republic, who'd used the clones to fight for them in the war - that he hadn't already read in the Academy.

Closing that, Luke continued his hunt, both through the computer and around the desk in general - found he had actual, if limited, holonet access. That'd do, while he _tried_ to ignore the shimmer at the bottom edge of the viewport where, far below and distant, the planet and the assault on it was taking place.

Six hours later, Luke knew Vader was back on board.

He hadn't understood what had been different at first, but, after sitting around unable to concentrate on the holovid he was watching for fifteen minutes, feeling cold fire flicker at the edges of his awareness, Luke _finally_ realised it was, first of all, there at all. And, second, that that was what his... what Darth Vader felt like.

Like a black, miniature sun of frozen flames.

The doors opened.


	8. Baby Steps VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader has to deal with his son's displeasure, which leads to... awkwardness and things he'd rather not remember. Luke comes to a conclusion Vader would probably he'd rather not have come to.

Perhaps, Vader considered upon stepping inside and letting the door close behind him, this had been a mistake. Luke was clearly agitated, and the look he gave him as he came in was accusing. What he'd done in the space between leaving the boy yesterday afternoon and coming in now, he couldn't fathom. Which just made him flex his hands where he'd laid them on his belt, annoyed and restless.

This _had_ been a mistake, but during the last few hours of the campaign all he'd been able to think about was the worry that the boy wouldn't be in his rooms when he came back. _Why_ he wouldn't be, considering the doors were locked and Luke had no access to anything that would allow him to break out, and didn't possess enough mastery of the Force to attempt to use _that_ to open the locks, he wasn't sure.

But the thought had refused to go away, and while he _could_ just have used the surveillance feed in the hyperbaric chamber to check, he'd walked in here instead.

And now, watching the boy stare up at him, a frown firmly in place and his brightness spangled through with agitation, he didn't know what to say. Glancing around the room, which didn't look any different from yesterday, his eyes fell on the couch where the uniform and helmet still lay. That gave him an idea---

"What's the point of _that_?" Youthful, angry righteousness burned in every single word in that sentence, and he didn't need Luke helpfully pointing towards the viewport and the planet below to figure out what the boy meant, or what, apparently, he was angry about. _Foolish_ , but to be expected.

"Order, young one," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping the snort in with long practice - the vocoder was finicky with such sounds, but did replicate them, but it also tore at the delicately healed skin in his nose. Better not to waste the effort. Luke's bright eyes - not blue in the mask but he knew they were - flashed and he stood up, pushing away from the desk.

"And what if they don't _want it_? You can't just force things like that on people!"

Annoyance and patient exasperation both wove together and this time he _did_ snort.

"You are young, it's not strange you are blinded by youthful ideas of _justice_ ; the Galaxy needs a firm hand and the Empire provides it, ensures stability and security---"

"And what about what happens _after_?" Luke interrupted, chin jutting out as he glared up at Vader. Who suddenly felt like this was going somewhere he would rather it did not. "They're non-Humans, it's a Falleen colony. Is _slavery_ important to stability too?"

 _I dreamed I freed_ \---

"That is---" the words grated in his throat, in his mouth, past his vocoder, and he almost turned and stormed out. "---as the Emperor wills it."

The boy's eyes widened and his expression went stony, and regardless of whether he wanted to think about this or not, regardless of the nearly two decades he'd spent trying to ignore it, to endure it, to assure himself that it would _change_ at some point, if he did not handle this _right now_ he would lose something.

He would lose the child, in a way that would be irretrievable, that much was obvious, and he didn't even need the Force to tell him this. 

"When we have removed him, Luke, that would change," Vader said slowly, ground each and every single syllable out against a reality where he'd had to ignore the slavery, and the words burned. It wasn't the sort of elegant, persuasive speech he'd been considering, and he'd ideally have presented it to the boy _later_.

Later, when he was sure of Luke's loyalty, later, when the boy was more trained, was firmly at his side, on the dark side.

Just... _later_.

"But---"

"If you wish to have a tour of the ship tomorrow, be dressed at 0800," he rumbled, interrupting Luke and then instantly turned on his heels and walked out, like he _should have done_ from the start. That was _not_ how he'd conceived of this conversation going, and Vader was thoroughly unsettled.

The intention had been to offer the tour now - leaving the boy alone for so long could hardly be a good idea - but staring down at the child after having those words tossed at him...

All he'd been able to see was a nine year old boy saying farewell to his mother. All he'd been able to _hear_ was a dream and a promise left unfulfilled. Crushed underneath _that's not our mandate, Anakin_ and being _too late_.

Slowly closing one hand into a fist, Darth Vader let the harsh breath rip through him as he lay the other hand against the curve of the hyperbaric chamber.

Two rooms away, Luke's Force presence was unsettled, but bright. Angry, and confused. Worried... He drew his awareness close around himself and tried to ignore the glowing maelstrom that was his son as he settled into the meditation chamber.

That had been a mistake, but hopefully not an irredeemable one.

***  
Heart hammering angrily in his chest, Luke stared at the closed doors. Almost stormed the whole way to the doors until he remembered that they'd be _locked_. Scowled and scrubbed his face harshly with his hands.

How could he just... _do that_? 

Considering Vader's past, Luke couldn't believe the man would be so complacent! Anger and confusion bubbled up, but with them came the memory of Vader's modulated voice fairly grating out what wasn't an excuse or defense...

_"That is... as the Emperor wills it."_

Luke stilled, felt cold slide down his back. Because while it'd been said with steel, the words used and the slowness they'd been uttered with had betrayed dull acceptance. The sort of dull acceptance Luke had seen in a few other places, on a few faces, despite Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru's attempts at protecting him. To others, it'd probably ring with the tones of forbidding command and loyalty.

Frowning, Luke wandered over to the couch and threw himself down on it, ignored the helmet falling off in response, and hugged himself.

Darth Vader was the Emperor's most trusted enforcer, his tireless iron fist... at least, that was what the Galaxy was given to see.

_"When we have removed him..."_

Biting his lip, Luke sunk down in the plush cushions, and didn't know what to think.


	9. Baby Steps VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's first experience with his "disguise" turns out to be something of a trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot; for an image of Luke's new Inquisitor "disguise": [here you go.](http://littlesparklight.tumblr.com/post/137512034614/a-quick-thing-for-the-next-space-race)

Luke had considered not being dressed in the stupid Inquisitor getup; he was still angry enough he didn't feel like being obedient, especially not when he had to be ready at 0800! Not that... he was unused to getting up at that time of the day or earlier, but despite being used to it he was still getting distinctly lazy lately. And being contrary to such a demand when there wasn't much (at least apparently) riding on his refusal was strong.

In the end, though, the idea of actually getting out of his rooms for a bit, and beyond Vader's quarters outside those, was too much of a lure.

But fitting the armour pieces - lower arm guard on his left, shoulder armour on his right with a huge and very conspicuous Imperial cog on it and a torso piece over the black uniform left Luke feeling distinctly uncomfortable. This was both very much like his Academy uniform, and distinctly _unlike_ it as well. The armour pieces just underlined the differences... and were surprisingly heavy. 

Real armour, no fake plastoid or even just cheap make here. Luke wondered why Vader had bothered giving him the actual real thing and not just something that looked like it.

At least the torso armour was subtly hinged so he could lean over and move pretty well when needed, but it was firm enough it forced a particular pose when just standing up or walking, and... it just left him very uncomfortable. It was the only way he could describe the muddled feeling that was a mesh of physical and mental discomfort.

Something which didn't get any better as he stared at the helmet in his hands, the mask and visor retracted, reluctant to put it on. Aside from the helmet itself, it had an additional layer that swung out on each side and looked pretty ridiculous in Luke's mind, but perhaps the design had some practical use he couldn't see.

The doors opened, and Luke looked up at Vader, frowning. Seeing the Sith Lord standing in the doorway made him think of _yesterday_ \--- 

But he didn't really want to. Of course, thinking about having to put on this really stupid helmet just to get out of here wasn't what he wanted to do _either_.

"You are coming, then," Darth Vader said, helm tilting. There was a curious... not exactly hesitation or even softness to the voice (Luke wondered how much emotion the vocoder even allowed for), but something which indicated Vader hadn't exactly expected it. Luke was honestly surprised with himself too, since he'd been waffling into the last.

But it'd get him out of here, and see more people... and... he supposed... a little more of Vader.

"I guess so," he said, then frowned at the helmet in his hands, "do I really _have to_ put this on?" If it'd just been the helmet, then it'd been one thing. Maybe even if there'd just been a visor, or something... 

He wasn't claustrophobic, and he knew TIE fighter pilots wore a full environmental suit since aside from the slight increase in chance of surviving if you weren't blown to bits, the TIEs didn't have life support, but to be frank his plan had never been to _stay_ after graduating, even if he'd made it into training as a TIE pilot.

His plan had been to use the Academy as a springboard, because fighting for the Empire, as a pilot or a stormtrooper, wasn't something he wanted to do. And yet here he was now standing, with a helmet that was both very similar and not, to the sort of helmets he'd never really planned on accepting to have to wear.

"Yes." Vader crossed his arms and stared down at him, and Luke grimaced.

"Fine."

Still he hesitated as he glanced from the helmet in his hands to Vader, and the helmet and mask that covered Vader's face and head completely. Felt something turn, unsettled, deep in his stomach. 

Shaking his head, Luke put the helmet on; it was heavy but not terribly so, and sat well enough, even without the mask and visor locked into place to keep it secured. With a sigh and a last glance up at Vader's unyielding mask, Luke fumbled for the catch for the mask and the visor, found it and tapped it.

The pieces slid smoothly closed in front of his face, and while it took a moment to adjust and the colour was slightly weird due to the tint, it wasn't anything bad. He guessed wearing glasses would be far worse than this, actually.

Except his breathing seemed loud and strained in his ears, there was a tingling, _burning_ ache in every limb he had (didn't have), his vision was, for some reason, tinted red and he _was trapped_ \---

Panic boiled up and Luke yanked the helmet off, nearly forgetting to undo the catches to let the mask and visor snap back so he _could_ take it off and he stumbled back a step, listening to his breath rasping in his ears and in perfect sync with... 

Looking up, there was no way to see past the black mask or the tinted, opaque lenses that covered the mask's eye holes, but for a moment, it really did feel like he and Vader were staring right at each other.


	10. Baby Steps VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader is no more happy about this disguise than Luke is, but what can you do?

He'd miscalculated.

It had been a mistake to go about it _this way_.

That was the thought that echoed through his head as he watched the mask and visor close over Luke's face and what was left was the usual faceless Inquisitor. That was as it should be, what was necessary to be, but looking at Luke wearing such a thing... 

His breath suddenly seemed too loud, like it'd been in the early days after he was first put in the suit, breath curling hot and close over his nose and against the wound snaking away from his cheek.

The helmet was heavy like it was new instead of something he'd long since gotten used to and tuned out.

The connections between the stumps of his limbs and the prosthesis tingled, _ached_ , like they had done when they were new and---

Luke yanked his helmet off, almost forgetting to disengage the catch for the visor and the mask and stared up at him, blue eyes wide and nearly wild, breathing quicker than it really should have been, as there really was no reason for him to react to just putting a helmet on.

And yet there'd been a reaction.

This had been a mistake, and for a brief, desperate moment, staring at Luke's suddenly pale face, what he _wanted_ to do was haul the child onto a shuttle and take him to the one place he wouldn't have to go around in _that_ to hopefully remain safe and anonymous against any possibility that his Master find out early.

But that place wasn't safe as long as Luke couldn't shield, didn't have better control of the Force. Further, hiding the boy there when he wasn't more trained, and wouldn't be able to train him for when his Master found out... was a foolish idea. More than that, it was _dangerous_ and would leave the boy unprotected.

Because it wasn't a matter of _if_ his Master found out, but _when_.

Of course, keeping Luke with him like this was dangerous as well, a careful balance of hoping he could keep his son as inconspicuous as possible while keeping him close. It was outweighed by the fact that he _needed_ to train him, both for when his Master found out and in preparation to put him in the one place Vader had access to that would be safer, if not completely safe.

Still, watching the visor and mask close over Luke's face...

Briefly, Darth Vader closed his eyes and pushed away the lingering echoes of the mask first closing over him.

"Are you _sure_ I have to do it like this?" Luke asked, voice dark and his expression pinched and really. 

He understood. 

All too well.

But this was the safest plan he could device with what he had to work with; as an Inquisitor, Luke would stand out, yes, but he would, as long as the mask and visor was up, be anonymous. No one would demand he identify himself, especially since he'd be tailing Darth Vader.

And while it'd be noteworthy in itself that he had an Inquisitor following him, it had happened a few times before, both as part of missions and the last stages of training for a few of them. It was not a completely unfamiliar situation, and therein lay Luke's safety.

It was an image people would see, and then tune out. 

Luke would not be a remarkable individual, merely a dark splotch to be avoided or obeyed as necessary, like any Inquisitor. Any officer high enough to take more detailed notice wouldn't be talking to _Luke_ , either way, and so it wouldn't matter.

"It will keep you anonymous," he said, voice deepening a little and hoping that Luke would not put forth any more protests regarding this, because despite his resolve, if Luke protested any more he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep with it. 

He also didn't say 'unfortunately, yes' to Luke's inquiry. Such open care didn't belong here, and Luke was, in any case, already getting his colour back, the wildness in his eyes bleeding out into annoyed resignation. 

"There are too many who would use your presence for their own ends if they figured out who you are. The Emperor chief among them."

And that was to be avoided _at all costs_ , for as long as possible.

Luke looked up at him for a moment longer, then heaved a deep sigh.

This time when he put on the helmet, he was slower, but the mask and visor closed without any... incident. After a moment of standing there, Luke carefully reached up and patted along the pointed end of the join between mask and visor, exploring it more than out of panic. Seeing that, Vader felt something in his shoulders unwind, settling the armour there back into its proper place.

"This thing is bigger than I need," his son pointed out, voice only minimally distorted by the mask. He closed his eyes and then opened them again, turning around.

"It was what was available. Come."

That was, of course, a lie. He'd taken a helmet with a mask and visor made to accommodate species that had longer faces, or had a snout of some kind, and taken it very deliberately. It gave Luke more space than he strictly needed, but he would, hopefully, feel less trapped that way. Even if there would undoubtedly be some adjustment necessary still. 

They'd almost reached the doors to the corridor when Luke spoke up again.

"Wait. How am I... um," Luke hedged, paused and, he was quite sure, frowned behind the mirrored visor, and then shifted on his feet if the noise behind him was any indication. His presence glowed with reluctant uncertainty, "if I need to say anything, how do I..."

"Keep silent unless absolutely necessary," he said, reaching for the door controls, "it will give anyone else less to go on when it comes to your voice. If you need to speak, you will address me as Lord Vader."

Which didn't quite seem right, and it also wasn't what he wanted to hear from his _son_. The annoyed, sullen spike in the boy's Force presence telegraphed Luke's opinion of that mode of address clearly. If it wasn't necessary it would have pleased him, since hopefully, even if Luke was so far distinctly conspicuous with not addressing him as _anything_ , the boy hopefully thought he had the right not to have to address his father as 'Lord Vader'.

"Right," Luke grumbled but straightened up. With a slight tilt to his head, he opened the door and led the way out.


	11. Baby Steps IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Vader go on their first jaunt around the _Devastator_. Someone really needs to stop leaking their feelings all over the place.

The strangest thing about walking around after his father and in this dumb getup, Luke quickly noticed, was that people were curious for a brief moment. Probably because Darth Vader didn't often have a tail, but after that initial curiosity, something slotted him into the 'Inquisitor' box, or _whatever_ and they all looked away, interest gone.

Of course, some of them were still curious but stopped looking right quick _anyway_ , the curiosity tempered with wariness. Most of the crew blended into the background soon - mostly because Luke was focusing on trying to get used to walking with a stupid thing in front of his face, filtering his sight. The helmet's visor wasn't really like his goggles; it was more advanced for one, but also definitely more of a _barrier_. 

It felt weirdly... distant, to be walking like this.

He really, really didn't like it, the feeling of a barrier. It was awkward and heavy and he felt _cut off_ and his breath was sort of loud and muffled at the same time---

Someone was staring at him, and Vader was standing several meters down the corridor, hands on his hips and his mask turned in his direction.

Luke realised he'd stopped in the middle of the corridor, almost about to disengage the locks for the visor and the mask. Letting his hands slowly drop, Luke glanced at the lieutenant standing off to the side, his dark eyes blank, expression something between curious and concerned. 

He seemed oddly flat to Luke, though maybe that was just an effect of the stupid visor and Luke's distraction.

"Lieutenant," Darth Vader's voice rumbled down the corridor, and Luke closed his eyes and focused on that - that, if nothing else, still sounded loud and clear, a near-thundering commanding tone that didn't care about metal and plastic barriers.

"Y-yes, my lord!"

Frowning a little, Luke tried to figure out what it _was_ with the man's voice that sounded strange, but he couldn't figure out what. The closest he got was when compared to Vader's rich baritone, the lieutenant's voice seemed flat and tinny in comparison. Stupid helmet.

"Your duties do not wait, and the Inquisitor does not need your concern."

Luke grimaced, a bit annoyed and feeling somewhat... not abandoned. No, that wasn't it, because... strangely enough, Luke could tell Vader was being far more patient than he'd ever thought he could be. Because even as the lieutenant hurriedly bowed and left, Vader said nothing to him, merely waited. It was more the fact that he'd so very quickly chased away someone who'd just been... what, concerned?

What was the danger in _that_?

Rolling his eyes, Luke let his next breath out slowly. It didn't feel as bad this time. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic, because he wasn't. Not really. It was just _something_ with this whole dumb helmet and the mask and visor that just... felt wrong. But he'd deal with it, because he refused to have to be stuck in his rooms all the time, and if this was what it'd take to get out...

Straightening up, Luke looked up into Vader's blank mask and nodded. The helmet tilted just a shade in response, and it wasn't until then that Luke realised there'd been dark, frozen tendrils in the Force just beyond his awareness and attention. 

Hovering, but not touching.

"This way," Vader said and turned around, but he didn't stride off until Luke had almost caught up. If it was some way to try and make up for the argument, Luke didn't know, but he... had to admit it was kind of nice anyway. Not that it was anything _big_ ; in fact, in some ways it was just barely a minimum amount of courtesy, but it wasn't like Darth Vader really needed to pay _anyone_ any courtesy. 

Luke didn't really pay attention while they walked until they stepped through a door and out on a walkway hanging high over a hangar. It was bigger than the one the shuttle he'd come here in had landed in, and there was not a single shuttle in view; there were only TIE fighters in here, and Luke drew in a breath.

"I've kinda wanted to fly one of these," Luke said quietly, almost getting distracted by the way his voice sounded - loud in his ears thanks to the mask and visor closing it in, and then came the _slightly_ distorted form of it out of the mask. But only _almost_ ; the shining rows of the honestly rather weird-looking starfighters held his attention more than the reminder of how he sounded when wearing this getup did.

"Have you even flown in space yet?" Vader sounded both sceptical and curious - the latter _almost_ well-hidden enough Luke didn't notice it.

"How did you think I got _around_?" Luke said with a roll of his eyes, walking up to the railing and leaning over it, "I mean, I haven't flown any _fighter ships_ , only a yacht... and the Skyhopper at home." Which wasn't at all like flying in space, but then, flying in atmo had its own challenges.

Vader stood silent behind him for several minutes while Luke stared down into the hangar, watching the pit crews on shift move between the TIEs lowered for maintenance. The idea to try and jump down and take one of the TIEs didn't really occur to Luke; one, he knew they didn't have any hyperdrive, and two... again, where was he even supposed to leave _for_?

Naboo? Alderaan? _Tatooine_.

Maybe, but that would mean leaving Vader behind and any chance to get to... maybe, get to know him. If that was even _possible_ , with how opaque and distant the man seemed, despite his intensity.

"Beggar's Canyon?" Vader's quiet rumble startled Luke, and he jerked, then turned away from the view of the hangar and looked up at Vader, blinking. And then he grinned as he realised what was being asked.

"Yeah. And the Needle," he said, straightening up a little as Vader once more actually _looked_ at him. Some quiet, indecipherable noise slipped from the Dark Lord and he shook his head.

"Of course." There was silence for another moment, and Luke almost turned back around to look out over the hangar again when Vader turned around, "bridge."

Pushing away from the railing, Luke grinned.

"Can we go see the reactor and the engines too?"

This didn't really change the argument they'd had - Luke had a feeling that either others would follow or he'd have to bite his tongue until he could _do something_ about it, whatever 'it' turned out to be, but... okay.

"... if you wish."

_Maybe_ this wasn't so bad.

Even if the Inquisitor outfit was still dumb and he didn't like the helmet and its mask and visor at all.


	12. Baby Steps X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader realises what he's been doing and what he needs to do. He also provides Luke with some additional things to do that _isn't_ basically homework.

Realising it was his own failure to not leak his ambivalence and discomfort over what Luke was currently wearing - it was the mask and the visor that did it - that had caused not just the first but the second near incident as well, Darth Vader was left feeling somewhat... awkward.

He would need to introduce the concept of shielding earlier than he'd planned, Vader quietly admitted to himself as Luke disappeared back into his rooms to get out of the Inquisitor outfit three hours later. Mostly to make sure the child did not suffer if _he_ failed again. He would make sure he did not, told himself it was merely the initial surprise that had caused this.

Surprise and an unpleasant association. Even the vague possibility suggested by a completely unnecessary Inquisitor's helmet fitted with a mask and a visor that his son would share his fate had dug in uncomfortably sharp and deep. It was nothing more than a necessary disguise. That was the reality, and what he needed to keep firmly in mind.

Frowning at the closed doors, Vader crossed his arms. He would guard himself better in the future and start Luke on discovering whatever shielding technique would work best for him, and that would be the end of these embarrassing lapses. 

Aside from the near-incident near the hangar, the whole excursion had gone as well as he could have expected it to, and confirmed he _would_ be able to take Luke out with him without incidence. Not that he could have the boy trailing after him at all times, but leaving the child locked up in his rooms, no matter what _he_ thought easiest and safest, was surely a surefire way to invite trouble.

Trouble of Skywalker caliber, which Vader ought to know well enough.

The door chimed and he turned around to stare down at the ensign that came in, coming to attention beside a repulsorlift-fitted crate full of parts. The young man swallowed sharply and gestured to the crate.

"The, uhm, parts you asked for, my lord," if the ensign was confused over why Darth Vader would request a crate full of droid parts, he did himself the favour of not showing it, though there was some proof of it in the Force. "Gunnery Captain Bolvan responded to your request for an update, and he's ready for the final push on the surface, Lord Vader."

"Dismissed."

Watching the ensign salute and leave, Vader walked over to the crate where it'd been left right inside the door and pushed it forward, reaching out a hand as he crossed the floor and caught the object that came flying into it. He'd forgotten about it this morning, but it would need to be brought to Luke's attention now.

The boy wasn't in the first room, and with a slight shake of his head, he walked up to the bedroom doors and opened them, causing Luke to stick his head out of the closet with a frown.

"You couldn't have waited a little _longer_?"

"I am leaving shortly, Luke. There's---"

"For the planet, right?" Luke's half-annoyed expression darkened, and Vader grit his teeth, both against the interruption and the sudden plunge into cool disapproval Luke's presence radiated.

"Do not interrupt me, son," he growled, hands on hips, and Luke's expression darkened further, the disapproval taking a sharp dive into angry obstinacy. He would not let him get any further than that. "There is a crate out in the other room, don't make me regret bringing it in here for you. Further, in the future whenever you leave, make sure this lightsaber is clipped to your belt. I will leave it on the desk in the office outside your rooms. It will be your responsibility to pick it up and leave it in the same place."

He held out the lightsaber, his large hand swallowing the hilt and somewhat awkwardly fitting under the ring around it. Luke blinked, straightening up and finally leaving the doorway of the closet and fastening the belt he'd been holding around his waist, looking from the lightsaber up at Vader. The anger dribbled away into confusion.

"You're letting me have a lightsaber outside of training?"

"This is a training saber, Luke," he said, making sure not to smile at the incredulous tone Luke had asked the question in, "it's capable of deflecting blaster bolts, but not much more. It's for completing your disguise, not to be used as a proper weapon."

"Should've _guessed_ ," Luke muttered and rolled his eyes, then nodded, "fine, whatever. I'll remember. What was that crate you talked about?"

He'd deal with his son's _attitude_ at some later point. For now, he merely gestured out behind him to indicate the other room. Luke tilted his head, and then frowned, glanced from him to the rest of the empty doorway and his bedroom. 

Saw Luke actually _notice_ he hadn't taken a single step into the bedroom, leaving a somewhat ridiculous amount of space between them as they talked. Luke's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and Vader was sure Luke was now noticing he hadn't come into the bedroom any of the times he'd come in here. 

Then he frowned and shook his head slightly, apparently deciding he was either wrong, or that he'd ask about it later, because instead of asking about it, he just passed Vader and practically dove into the crate.

"Droid parts?" That was a question, but there was a cautious interest and delight in Luke's voice that made the tension in Vader's shoulders bleed away a little.

"For an MSE droid. I will probably be gone for two days, though it will undoubtedly take you longer to put even a MSE together from scratch and then program it, but all you need is in there. It's not _quite_ moisture vaporators, but I hope it will do," he said, allowing his dry amusement register as clearly as he dared, and was rewarded, so to speak, by Luke's snort and a faint, if cautious smile on his face as he straightened up.

"We had lots of old droids too, to help, but they basically needed as much maintenance as the vaporators _themselves_ ," Luke said with an eyeroll and shrug, then looked down at the crate again, "I've always wanted to try to..." he didn't finish, and there was no 'thank you', even if he saw Luke quickly glance up at him several times, perhaps weighing it and then deciding not to.

He did not care (he told himself); what was important was that the boy actually was interested in the idea at all.

"You will have the chance now," he said after a few moments, then gestured Luke over to the couch by the viewport. The boy frowned but did as silently asked, even if he didn't sit down immediately.

"What?" 

Vader wondered how long it'd take before Luke lost the slightly wary, somewhat challenging edge to his voice and he didn't jut his chin out automatically, clearly expecting some sort of... what, reprimand? The boy hadn't even done anything, yet, aside from having an anti-imperial opinion about pacifications, but that could be rectified in time. Though maybe this was Vader's reputation working against him, he honestly wasn't sure. 

"Given the... incidents earlier today, I am going to introduce you to shielding now, and not later. It will help us both," he said slowly and held back a sigh at the thought, "there is no time to get into particulars, but I want you to think about what you keep in mind when trying to hide. You need to expand this not just to a _physical_ hiding place, but one that you can use for a mental one as well."

Luke scrunched his nose and looked utterly bewildered, which wasn't entirely unexpected. Darth Vader would rather not try to teach his son these sort of finer points of using the Force, but there was no one else (he would not _trust_ anyone else), and so he had to attempt it. 

There was no use in trying to make Luke use the dark side either - this would be difficult enough for the boy until he had a solid shielding technique down for himself. Worry about the method later, focus on the _how_ , for now.

"I don't get it," Luke muttered, ducking his head and looking caught between annoyed and embarrassed.

"Consider that hiding your physical body requires appropriate cover of some sort, son," he eyed the boy, watching him twitch a little at the use of 'son', but Luke would simply have to get used to that, and then he nodded slowly. "What do you need in that case?"

"... it needs to be large enough?" Luke said slowly, frowning as he thought, "larger than what I'd need to crouch behind in case someone comes from another angle, or you need more space."

"Exactly. Except you are not hiding your _body_ with shielding, but your Force presence and your mind. Two days, Luke. If it takes longer, I will inform you, and if you need to, the comm unit at your desk has my frequency."

The only comm frequency that that comm unit would accept, in fact.

Luke frowned, bit his lip, and then nodded slowly, still looking uncertain.

"... okay."

Vader didn't necessarily expect Luke to have something figured out in two days, but he fully believed the boy would have _started_ to figure something out that they could test and work with, which was all he required. Giving the boy a nod, he turned on his heels and left.


	13. Baby Steps XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke spends four days doing basically nothing while Vader is off doing... his thing. And then, instead of bringing up the shielding again, Vader introduces something else.

It didn't take two days, it took nearly four until Darth Vader was back on the _Devastator_. Luke wasn't awake at the time, however, since Vader returned with Gunnery Captain Bolvan and the forces from the 501st stationed on the _Devastator_ in the middle of the night, shipboard time. At least, Luke thought when he looked up as the doors opened well into the afternoon, it'd given him more time to think about that... shielding Vader had talked about, but he still wasn't sure he'd come up with a viable idea yet.

He _thought_ he understood the basic idea, but the concept of having to shield his mind - his presence in the Force - was something far harder to understand than he'd thought it'd be. How did you even _do that_?

And maybe he hadn't thought about it as much as he should have, since the crate with droid parts had taken a lot of interest, no matter how frustrating Luke had found it to be to try and build a droid from scratch, by hand and with hand-held tools. 

Interesting, but utterly frustrating.

With that in mind, he eyed Vader a bit uncertainly when the man strode in, reminded once again at how he always came into _this_ room like he owned it, but he'd stayed in the doorway to the bedroom, even the first day when Luke had refused to move at first. He'd thought that had been a fluke, or maybe Vader trying _really hard_ to give him a bit of space so shortly after arriving, but the same had happened right before he left too.

Luke wasn't sure _why_ , but... it was nice. Regardless of the reason, it felt nice to, for all intents and appearances, have a space Vader would respect as _his_.

Though Luke wouldn't be trusting that until he had retreated in there when Vader was really angry and _then_ didn't follow him in - not that he necessarily wanted to have that sort of argument with his... with _Darth Vader_ , but he didn't hold any illusions that it might not happen. And if Vader actually respected that space, managed to do it even when actually angry?

Luke wasn't sure what to think of the potential reality that that would make him more respectful of Luke's space than Uncle Owen had been the few times he'd gotten angry enough. But maybe it wasn't comparable...

"Luke."

Twitching, he looked up a bit guiltily, realising he somehow had managed to get distracted. With _Darth Vader_ in the same room. How did he manage that, anyway?

"Uh... sorry? I got distracted," he said and refused to blush, because that was _obvious_. There was some quiet noise from Vader, not quite loud enough as usual; perhaps the vocoder hadn't picked it up properly for some reason. Maybe it didn't matter. Putting down the tool and the little servomotor he was working on, Luke frowned.

"Did you want to, uh, talk about the shielding now?" So far, after all, Vader had always come in here with a _purpose_ , and since that was what they'd talked about last, that must be it, right? Vader was silent for a moment longer, then turned slightly towards the door.

"No. Not at the moment. There was something..." he trailed off, and if Luke didn't know better (though maybe he didn't, it wasn't like he knew Vader well enough, and he didn't dare to check too closely on the sense he had of Vader in the Force either), he'd say Vader was _hesitating_. "The Inquisitor outfit. Put it on and come with me."

Huffing a little at the commanding tone, Luke decided not to put up a fight about it, even if Vader's approach could use some _adjustment_. He did wonder what Vader wanted, since it _apparently_ wasn't to talk about teaching him shielding. Still, he was a bit reluctant about getting into the uniform again, not to talk about the _helmet_ , but under Vader's silent, impenetrable stare, he put it on.

It was... okay.

Nothing as bad as days ago, even after they'd been walking corridors and taking turbolifts for fifteen minutes, finally ending up in a small hangar that contained nothing but a single lambda shuttle, and a type of TIE that, Luke was sure, hadn't been put into production yet. They took the stairs down to the hangar deck from the walkway they'd first come out on, and stopped in front of the gleaming fighter.

"This will not be the fighter you will be flying, but the controls are practically identical---"

"I will be--- You're going to let me _fly_?!" Luke whirled on Vader, forgetting all about his rebuke about _not interrupting him_ , staring up at him. The helmet inclined slightly and Vader crossed his arms over his chest.

"If you would let me finish, Luke."

Clearing his throat, he ducked his head and shrugged. The silence stretched, and when it'd gone on for more than a minute Vader clearly decided he'd been tortured enough - or shown he understood, but either way, Vader continued.

"There is a datapad in the cockpit, read it and compare the instructions to the controls. Familiarise yourself with them. Do not activate _anything_ , but don't be afraid to touch the controls; the layout is mostly the same as in a standard TIE fighter," Vader paused, and Luke felt the weight of his stare on him, "take some care to memorise the controls and visualise them, I will be asking you to locate them accurately by memory alone."

The implication being that Vader would be able to tell if he said something was in a spot it _wasn't_ because _he_ knew exactly where the controls were.

Luke nodded, and it was very, very hard not to clamber up into it immediately, especially as Vader had fallen silent for the moment, though soon after he shifted again, cloak swaying at his feet and reflected in the shiny deck.

"A modified TIE fighter will be at your disposal when I am satisfied with your theoretical knowledge of the controls and the layout. Until then you will not be putting a single limb near anything else but this," he said, nodding to what was clearly his own fighter. Luke glanced from the fighter, to Vader and back again.

"Modified? Like this one?"

Because he sure did want to fly something like _that_.

"No." Vader shook his head, his voice a rumble and gesturing at the fighter. "Producing another TIE Advanced would create questions, in particular since there would be no records of this one being irreparably destroyed. Yours will be a standard TIE fighter, with additional shields and life support, even if you will not be flying in combat."

Eyeing Vader side-long, Luke suppressed the indignant little flicker that wanted to be annoyed that he wouldn't just be given a standard TIE fighter; he would be able to fly one of those death traps far better than _anyone else_ , he was sure. He suppressed that thought, though, because if he said that he would firstly probably not get to fly at all, and secondly, a shield was just _good sense_. 

But...

"Life support?" It could _probably_ fit in a standard TIEs cockpit, it'd just be more of a squeeze. Vader, however, just gestured at the fighter in front of them and didn't answer. Or rather, completely ignored that question, for whatever unfathomable reason. Darth Vader was _weird_.

"If you have no more questions, go. You may remove the helmet while inside the cockpit. I have adjustments to make," Vader said and turned away, striding around the side of one of the TIE's panels. 

Watching him walk away, Luke hesitated. He wanted to... ask some things, but would that be unwelcome? Luke had stood in the middle of Darth Vader's rage, but for all that it hadn't been directed _at him_ , that'd been more than enough. But he also had the feeling that if _he_ didn't push, things wouldn't get anywhere _ever_ \- Luke was surprised to realise that he might actually want them to get somewhere at all - and he was, also, really curious about this prototype.

So just as Vader disappeared behind the fighter, Luke ran after him.

"Wait! Can't I... I mean, can't you tell me about _this one_ first?" Because he _really_ wanted to know what was different, it's capabilities, _anything_. Vader stopped, half turned on his heel, and Luke could swear he felt a brief sense of exasperated, but not displeased, amusement from Vader.

It was odd, and the strongest reading he'd gotten from the older man so far, aside from the general crush of his dark presence in the Force. Which... he was getting used to, Luke thought. Even if it'd been something of a shock when he'd woken up this morning and felt the cold sun so close again after nearly four days of only the vaguest sense of Vader, far away. 

At least 'exasperated amusement wasn't a bad reaction, so maybe it hadn't been a bad idea to go after him.

"You may ask after I am done and you have started familiarising yourself with the controls," he said, and when nothing else was forthcoming, Luke bit his lip to smother a grin he wasn't sure if it was awkward or excited, even if Vader couldn't _see it_ at the moment, nodded and walked back to get inside.

The datapad laid on the pilot's seat like Vader had indicated, and Luke's grin widened as he disengaged the mask and visor and pulled the helmet off, flopping down in the seat. Breathing in slowly, he ran his hands over the controls, without touching. The first fighter he'd ever sat in, and it was a _prototype ship_.

He still felt a bit disappointed he wouldn't get to _fly it_ , but just sitting in here was cool enough.


	14. Baby Steps XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader feels more pleased than he feels he should over Luke's reaction to his TIE, but this ends on a sour note after some lightsaber practice.

It probably couldn't - shouldn't - be considered a victory to simply be _nearby_ his son and have the boy radiate nothing but distracted pleasure while he was reading the datapad and not-quite-touching the controls of his TIE. Or, even more so, the excited curiosity Luke had been fairly brimming with after the cautious hesitation had disappeared and he'd lost himself in asking questions about the specifications for the prototype.

It shouldn't, but that was, nonetheless, what it had felt like.

Perhaps it was partly because there'd been no arguments - a situation that probably wouldn't last, but he would take it for as long as he could. Especially when he got the chance to see Luke's excitement and interest on his face as well as feel it, even if he hadn't planned on allowing the boy back out of the cockpit without putting the helmet back on.

He hadn't let him leave the hangar without putting the helmet back on, however, regardless of the reluctance he'd sensed. What he _had_ done, sensing the reluctance only grow when they got closer to his quarters, was to change direction and take Luke with him to the bridge. 

They didn't stay there long, but by that point it was barely half an hour until they'd drop out of hyperspace at Sluis Van for maintenance and refuelling, since they'd been in the hangar for four hours and they'd been in hyperspace for almost two before he took Luke to the hangar.

It was a tiny, nearly pathetically simple thing that almost left him feeling foolish, but Luke's pleasure at not just not being put back in his rooms immediately after they were done but being present for when they came out of light speed had been obvious in the Force. 

So simple, and it hadn't really affected his or anyone else's work or concentration, so what was the harm?

It also made it far easier to get Luke back to his rooms and leave him to his late dinner, though the only reason he left Luke to it despite the urge to stay was... exactly because of that urge to stay, the fact that he _did_ have things to do, and because the boy had started glancing up at him, an eyebrow raised, and not focusing on his food.

He'd also intended to actually touch on the issue of shielding the next day, but instead, as they came into the duelling room and Luke's attention was drawn to the droid he'd left out last night, having clearly forgotten to put it back, he went over to it instead.

"I will not be able to personally oversee all your lightsaber training. Routine practice will be assisted by droids instead," he paused, arched an eyebrow even if Luke couldn't see it, "you will decrease the blade intensity for this, and the droid's will be at a similar strength to make sure any hits scored do not end with any unwanted results."

Despite the fact that he'd deliberately stripped this droid of any programming that was too far above Luke's current apparent skill and knowledge as an extra precaution, the image of Luke either ending up with a missing limb or cut in half lingered in his head. 

"Okay," Luke shrugged, frowning at the droid, "so that's what we're doing now?"

"For now," he almost turned and left immediately, but raised a finger to point at the boy, "and do not think you can use the reverse grip simply because I am not here, Luke. I will be back in an hour." He didn't miss his son's eyeroll as he left... and _didn't_ go to any of the work he had laying waiting for him. 

Instead he settled in his hyperbaric chamber and turned on the security feed for the training room, watching Luke warily circle the droid, both lightsabers lit.

It was probably a far more _fair_ fight than his first tests of Luke's skill, and he noted with some pleased amusement that Luke used - or tried to, he would need some practice - one of the moves he'd used on the boy during that first assessment. Three-quarters into the hour he'd given, and Luke, between one block and duck and the next slash, had, perhaps unthinkingly, switched to reverse grip for the shoto.

Growling, Darth Vader _almost_ snapped at his son over the bond to _cease immediately_ , but held back at the very last moment, despite the temptation. He would wait until Luke was more settled and comfortable with him before he brought the slowly growing bond into this. 

Having to watch the boy use that _blasted_ method made it exceedingly hard not to storm over there and break off the training before the hour was up, however.

In the end, though, more than an hour had passed before he went and got Luke, staring at the way the boy moved with growing confidence and skill, just from this practice session.. and noting what he might need to correct or assist Luke with. Well, aside from reinforcing that he not use the reverse grip, that was.

His intention to talk to Luke about that before he left got derailed when the boy came out of his bedroom, hair still wet and shaking his head.

"Do _all_ the showers on the ship have a water setting? I mean, I can see why a place like---" Luke bit down on his lip and paled slightly, and Vader, behind his mask, narrowed his eyes. He hadn't prodded the boy yet about _where_ his old master and, apparently, former apprentice had kept his son before he'd clearly left them - something he also wondered about - but this gave a clear indication that wherever he'd been, Luke didn't feel like he could tell him.

All the more reason to inquire, then.

"I mean, the Academy only had sonics, and you'd think ships would only have it as well 'cause---"

"Only higher-ranking officer quarters have sonic and water settings both, Luke," he rumbled, crossing his arms and cutting the slightly frantic ramble off. He had to resist the urge to move so he could cut off Luke's retreat back into the bedroom in case Luke tried to leave. 

"And you can see why a place like _where_ would have water available for showers?" He put weight in those words - not the typical sort of authority, but the result was exactly what he wanted when Luke flushed and ducked his head before he straightened up again, twisting the ends of the towel hanging around his neck.

"Like _anywhere_! A lot of places have more water than I thought could ever exist..." Luke trailed off, the defensiveness bleeding into a sort of wonder Vader recognised all too well. Even if he'd rather not. He pushed that away and focused on the _important_ thing here.

"Be that as it may, Luke, _where_ did Obi-Wan take you? Where were you before you ended up on Naboo?"

This time, Luke just straightened, a flash of defensive determination on his face and in the Force before the sense of the boy suddenly dimmed and flattened under the subtle push Vader had been directing at him. He rallied surprisingly - annoyingly - well under pressure, despite that he probably only vaguely knew what he was doing when it came to shielding.

"I'm not telling you _anything_ ," Luke huffed, flexing his hands and then crossing his arms over his chest, "besides, Ben didn't take me anywhere, he came to where I was."

"And _where_ was that?" Vader said, trying again to push, both with paternal disapproval and the Force, though unwilling to actually push hard enough to break through the barrier Luke's shielding had created. It would hurt if he did that, and, no matter how much it rankled, this wasn't a life or death situation. 

If it was, he might have been willing to break through, because he realised he neither wanted to nor would gain anything from doing it for anything _less_. It would break whatever faint wisps of trust Luke _might_ have started to put in him.

"I'm _not_ telling you," Luke snapped and then whirled around, storming back into the bedroom and apparently both having noticed that Vader never went into his bedroom... and trusting that it wouldn't happen now either.

Teeth gritted despite the pain it sent shooting through his skull and down his spine, his fists tense enough to strain the workings, it was _supremely_ hard to remain where he was and not follow the boy. 

He'd find out later, no matter how much he would want to deprive Obi-Wan of whatever allies he had - possibly in the rebellion, even - and do it _now_. Better to let the boy have this, for now.


	15. Baby Steps XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke deals with the argument, but that includes not coming out of his rooms for two days. When he does, things are... maybe better than he thought they'd be.

Head thumping against the wall beside the door while his heart was loud in his chest, Luke realised he was holding his breath when his lungs started to strain for air. But Vader didn't follow, didn't even come storming up to the door and open it. Luke had _expected_ him to, but he _didn't_ , so maybe his earlier observation that the bedroom would be 'safe' was actually right. 

Right or not, he was certainly relieved. Crossing his arms over his chest, Luke grimaced. He didn't want to feel grateful _or_ relieved for it, and certainly not now. It wasn't even something he should _have to_ feel grateful for, but it was still unexpected.

The door stayed closed, and the strange, almost-not-gentle pressure that had been weighing against his brain and thoughts earlier, trying to get _in_ , didn't come back. The sense of Vader, huge and dark and roiling, retreated only somewhat, but Luke knew that meant he'd left the outer room and gone into his own quarters.

Breathing out slowly, Luke slumped against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't sure, exactly, what he'd done - he could tell he'd probably shielded, and he had an idea of what he'd done and used to accomplish it. He didn't know how _exactly_ , however, and he doubted it'd have stood up against _Darth Vader_ prodding his mind.

Apparently that was something his... he could do.

Which just led back to the dark anger he'd felt from Vader, still felt the remains of. The one that'd come from his refusal to tell where he'd been and over Ben and Ahsoka. Scowling, Luke knew he couldn't, and _wouldn't_ , tell him. It wasn't just Ben and Ahsoka it was about, after all, but other people as well.

He hadn't really thought this would happen. Why hadn't he? It made _sense_ , really, and he shouldn't feel so blasted betrayed at having what felt like several tons of durasteel turned on him as Vader's desire to _know_ had pushed down on him. 

And while he could admit, vaguely, maybe, that he didn't want to leave, even with _this_ thrown in his face, it sure didn't make him feel good about that still-existing vague desire to not leave. Either way, no matter what Vader wanted, he wasn't going to put _other_ people in danger.

That had been the point of leaving Leia and the others, after all.

Pushing away from the wall and walking over to the huge viewport, Luke stared down at Sluis Van. He _should_ try to leave. He should. Considered the possibility of, if they were still here when (maybe _if_ , now) Vader let him onto a TIE fighter, taking it and flying down there... But he'd already admitted he didn't really _want_ to leave, despite the fear that sat low in his stomach of what might have happened (might still happen) if Vader found out who he'd been staying with before he left.

Guilt turned over in his stomach, because he should _want to leave_ , and yet...

Groaning, Luke scrubbed his face and went over to where the crate with the parts were. He needed something to do that wasn't thinking about Vader, or what had almost happened. The droid parts would have to do, and hopefully they'd occupy him for long enough.

Luke was feeling wary and defensive enough over the whole thing he refused to come out for two days, burying himself in trying to put the MSE droid parts together correctly and, despite wondering if Vader would go back on the promise, reading the datapad. He couldn't _not_ , because the possibility of actually getting to fly in something like a snub fighter was too much of a temptation to not keep hoping that he'd get to do it.

And since he knew Vader hadn't been joking when he said he'd need to know the controls before he'd be let inside one, that meant spending some time with that datapad.

It was far more difficult than he'd thought it'd be when he first decided he wasn't coming out until--- He hadn't actually decided what the condition would be, and maybe that made it even more difficult. 

But two days later and Luke Skywalker was _bored_. 

And lonely, even if there was the constant burn of the cold sun of Darth Vader close by, impossible to avoid and keeping him a weird sort of company, even though he'd tried to pull away as much as possible at first. 

Unsure whether he'd succeeded or not, Luke still relaxed a little the evening on the second day, staring down at the datapad he was determinedly trying to memorize and visualise the contents of, slowly and carefully - _reluctantly_ but intentionally - reaching towards the dark sun that sat like a contained storm at the edge of his awareness and in the back of his mind.

Doing it deliberately for the first time since coming on board, out of an uncertain wariness to see if doing it would provoke some sort of reaction.

Like this, Luke realised he could almost... sort of, _touch_ that sensation of Darth Vader through the Force, but that very thought made him draw back again, because he didn't want to do _that_. If he did, Luke felt like something would happen, and no matter what it was, he wasn't ready for that. 

Nothing happened, though, and more than that, he felt the very deliberate distance Vader was keeping, something he hadn't noticed at first - a distance that was kind of relieving, and Luke didn't feel like breaching it, just yet. It was weird to think that Vader's overbearing presence in the Force actually could keep a little distance.

The next morning, however, Luke felt the restless loneliness even more and, despite still feeling wary every time he thought back on the not-exactly-an-argument two days ago, didn't want to stay in his rooms any longer. Even wanted to, maybe... talk to Vader. And not just because he was the only other person there was _to_ talk to, more or less.

Eyeing the door that led out of his two rooms with a frown after lunch, Luke could _swear_ he hadn't heard the lock engage after the droid left with the remains of said lunch. What did it hurt to check? He could always go back inside if things went bad again, if the doors were even open, since Vader had proven he wouldn't come in after him.

Taking a breath, Luke snagged the datapad from where it lay on the desk and marched over to the door - which opened as he approached it. The room wasn't empty, which might explain why the door hadn't been automatically locked when the droid had left. Vader was sitting by the desk in the room, a datapad in hand and several other laid in neat piles on the dark wood.

He didn't look up as Luke came out and then froze at the sight of him, which let Luke stare hesitantly and then decide that no. He wouldn't go back to his rooms. The tension in his shoulders slowly bleeding away when any half-expected confrontation about the way he'd left, or what they'd talked about didn't happen, Luke cautiously walked over to the viewport behind the desk, leaned against the transparisteel and bent over his own datapad.

His sense of Vader in the Force, when Luke finally checked several long minutes later, was more open than it'd been. The distance Vader had kept was... not completely gone, but the cold sun wasn't quite as restrained _either_... The sudden flick of attention, despite that Vader's helmet remained tilted down and focused on the datapad in front of him, made Luke twitch and withdraw.

At the same time, however, that brief flick made more of Luke's tension disappear; there was nothing _demanding_ in that brief moment of focused attention. What there _was_ , Luke noticed, though he got the feeling he hadn't been _supposed_ to notice, was a slight, tense _wanting_ that quickly was buried as Vader contained his presence in the Force again.

Biting his lip and glancing up over the edge of the datapad, Luke didn't feel like that made up for the angered demand two days earlier, but... Well, it was nice to feel that Vader could, maybe, _want_ his attention without _demanding_ it...

The flicker of the hologram that was on display caught Luke's attention right when it was closed down, and he straightened up.

"Wait! What was that?" Then he snapped his mouth closed as Vader looked up, the light catching in the red lenses. He'd not planned on talking to Vader just yet, but he couldn't find himself regretting it, even with the weight of Darth Vader's attention suddenly on him full force again after two days of his self-imposed isolation.

"Come here," Vader said, gesturing him over as the hologram flickered into view again. Crossing the floor to stand on the other side of the desk, Luke stared down at it, quite captivated. The design was similar to the regular Star Destroyer silhouette, but it was of a far more sleeker wedge-shape than the regular, showing smooth expanse of metal around a central island.

"The _Executor_ ," Vader said quietly, his voice a faintly echoing rumble as he gestured to the holo, bringing up a second holo of a Star Destroyer beside the first, sleeker _Executor_. The second holo then promptly shrunk, and Luke stared at the implication of what the sudden _speck_ of a Star Destroyer next to the _Executor_ might mean. 

Vader's next few words only confirmed Luke's incredulous assumption; "and her scale compared to an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. She will be the first of a new kind of Star Destroyer. And will become the flagship of the Death Squadron when she's finished."

Blinking slowly as he watched the holo rotate, Luke couldn't quite believe what he was looking at.

"That's... that ship will be _huge_." Luke might not have any interest in _flying_ something like a capital ship, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the sheer, deadly sleekness of the design and the size of it.

"Nineteen thousand meters."

Luke couldn't quite stop the noise that escaped at that quiet proclamation, even if he'd been staring at the comparison between the _Executor_ and the Imperial-class Star Destroyer for more than a minute by now.

"Talking of ships, however," Vader said without looking up, and Luke frowned, feeling vague amusement but also intent attention being focused on him again. It made Luke straighten up and look up at Vader from under his lashes, still focused on the holo of the _Executor_. "Lateral thruster controls."

Luke blinked, repeated the words silently and utterly confused at this sudden change in topic. And then he remembered the datapad clutched in one hand and what Vader had said earlier, about the condition he would be flying a TIE under.

"Ah--- By... by the the target control for the cannons," Luke said, frowning as he attempted to visualise what he'd read and seen of the controls of Vader's prototype TIE. The helmet tilted just slightly and Luke shook his head sharply. That was _wrong_ \---

"You are thinking of the TIE Advance's controls, Luke. I said they were _nearly_ identical to a regular TIE fighter, not---"

"Wait! Wait, uh. By the fuel throttles! And _those_ are underneath the target control."

Vader stared at him silently, and Luke couldn't tell what he thought of that; the cold sun was a flat transparisteel pane, probably deliberately.

"What did I say about interrupting me, son?"

Grimacing at the use of _that_ appellation again, his grip tightening on the datapad, Luke glanced away, down at the holo of the _Executor_ again.

"Not to do it."

"Perhaps you will have learned _not to_ before you're twenty," Vader said, his voice dry enough Luke heard it and he looked up sharply, blinking and surprised. "But you are correct. That _is_ where the lateral thruster controls are. Cannon strength toggles?"

Straightening up a little and determined to get it right on the first try this time, Luke closed his eyes and didn't blurt out the first thing that came to mind before he'd checked against the mental map he'd started to create - and found that he wasn't wrong.

Perhaps he would actually get to fly that TIE fighter sometime before he was twenty, _as well_.


	16. Dathomir I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka finally realised why she sort-of recognised the would-be kidnapper's clothes, and goes to the source.
> 
> She is not pleased.

Glowering at the planet beyond the viewport as she came out of hyperspace, Ahsoka couldn't _believe_ it'd taken her this long to recognise the would-be kidnapper's style of clothing. 

It should have been obvious, really. Especially since she'd hidden out with people dressed basically the same as the young woman for six months a few years after the Empire had been formed, before she'd met up with Rex again. It didn't feel like an acceptable excuse that it was literally over a decade since she'd been to Dathomir.

So now she was here again, watching the red cast of the planet become a red sky and a red miasma hovering over the thorny swamps as she descended lower, distinctly aware that this might lead to nothing - there was more than one Nightsister clan, after all. But while there might be more than one, Mother Jade was the final authority, so it was... unlikely, that anything like a Nightsister running around outside Dathomir wasn't something she at least knew _about_.

Pretending not to notice the shadows she acquired after landing, Ahsoka strode with single-minded purpose towards the hidden settlement. The shadows followed her but did nothing else, and perhaps it was because she knew where to go without being told, or because of some lingering order that allowed her to walk the whole way past the fortress' doors without being detained. 

She didn't care.

She kept a hand near her lightsaber as she walked and kept away from the conspicuous pools of red or oily-looking black that dotted the ground before she took the stairs into the actual building. She wound her way onwards purely on memory and hoping they hadn't redecorated since last... though, admittedly, even if they had she could possibly find the familiar presence in the Force she was here to meet with. Maybe. If she wasn't hiding. 

It turned out she only needed her memories Ahsoka found as she stalked into a tall-ceilinged, round room with nothing but a rather comfortable-looking round chair, overflowing with pillows, and an onyx-coloured crystal ball on a elegantly twisted metal stand in it.

"We need to talk. _Alone_ , Mother," Ahsoka said to the apparently empty room, swallowing down her anger and letting it bleed out of her fingertips and out through her feet, into the strangely warm stone floor.

"Indeed," the rough voice floated in from behind a curtain, though the first one past the drapery was a ten-year old girl, who stared with wide, dark eyes up at Ahsoka, flashed a sudden, toothy grin, and then scampered out of the room, closing the door behind her. Next came the woman the voice belonged to; tall, pale-eyed, and white-skinned, making the green and purple markings on her face all the more startling.

"What is it, Ahsoka?" Her eyes narrowed and with a slight, nearly taunting curl to her lips, Mother Jade stared at her and Ahsoka felt something clench in her gut. She forced herself to relax.

"No Nightsister leaves Dathomir without your knowledge, so who was it you borrowed a Nightsister to, Ventress?" Her accusation didn't garner as much of a response as she'd _hoped_ ; Ventress cocked her head, her long topknot braid swinging forward behind her, and arched an eyebrow. Or rather, the bare ridge and the green markings that followed it.

"I think you already know who it was, Ahsoka. You're one of the more _clever ones_ , after all," Ventress said with a sharp smile, and this wasn't what Ahsoka had wanted to hear _at all_. She'd hoped that the Inquisitors, that _Darth Vader_ wouldn't have noticed Luke yet. That he'd merely been hunted because of his desertion. 

But that, she acknowledged, had been a silly hope. Luke was a Skywalker, after all.

" _Why_ did you do it? You're not obligated to give any more Nightsisters to the Empire..." trailing off, Ahsoka narrowed her eyes and barrelled past the sudden, brittle tension in Ventress's stiff frame, "in fact, why would anyone in the Empire be _bothering you at all_?"

"There was no love lost between me and Skywalker, Ahsoka," Ventress snarled and turned away, braid swinging behind her, back stiff, "and we were paid quite well, even with the job only half done."

"Luke has done nothing to deserve your ire, Asajj. How _could_ y---"

"Ahsoka." Ventress sat down in the chair, blue eyes burning as she continued, voice strangely soft, "a bit of advice; don't finish that sentence."

Teeth gritted, Ahsoka snapped her mouth closed, closed her eyes and breathed.

"You can take some measure of comfort in the fact that tall, dark and armoured has no interest in handing over his newest acquisition to the Emperor," Ventress said after several moments, and Ahsoka snapped her eyes open. She was left staring at the Nightsister Mother as much for the nearly mocking amusement in Ventress' voice as for what she was _saying_.

"How do you know that?"

And _why_? Luke was strong - did Vader want to use that strength himself, if he could just turn him? Use it to turn him on the Emperor? No matter what it was, the thought of Luke turned into nothing more than a dark side pawn for Darth Vader _or_ the Emperor made her heart hurt.

"Vader went to some effort to keep his desire to get the boy quiet. A Nightsister was all he sent after the Skywalker kid," Ventress said, head cocked again, smile sharp and the earlier tension gone. 

That was still not good. Not at all. But maybe there was some measure of small luck, some more _time_ afforded her if Luke wouldn't be handed over to the Emperor any time soon. It all depended on how Vader would deal with Luke. She closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

"All right. That's all?"

The pause was nearly long enough Ahsoka thought Ventress wouldn't volunteer anything else.

"The same Nightsister will be at his disposal if something goes wrong with the Skywalker kid," Ventress said, then huffed, "happy now, Ahsoka?"

"No," she said sourly, shaking her head, "but thank you, Asajj." She probably couldn't expect anything more out of Ventress; was, honestly, a bit surprised she'd told her this much, even if they weren't really enemies. They'd never _exactly_ become friends _either_. Whatever they were was rather diffuse and distant... and yet lingered.

***  
Watching Ahsoka leave, the door closing behind her with a low, quiet thump since it was wood and not metal, Asajj pursed her lips.

"If you actually _listened_..." she shook her head and snorted. 

Was rather sure Ahsoka had had at least one chance at some point to realise who it was behind the mask, and hadn't been able to look at the facts and put them together to get the answer. 

She would not crush Ahsoka's memories, not yet. She didn't need to know who Vader was to try and find the Skywalker brat, after all. But why she was giving Skywalker even this much assistance was beyond her.

... though no, it wasn't.

He'd wanted his son.

She knew all about wanting your child back.

For that, and that only, had she agreed to this at all. And for that, and that _only_ , had she _not_ told Ahsoka _who_ , exactly, it was Luke Skywalker was now in the hands of. She'd told Ahsoka what she could without actually compromising her position, and yet honouring the vague, _persistent_ thing between her and Ahsoka. 

Those six months and the comms in the years after was something she found... pleasant, though she'd never say it. 

Either way, if the brat escaped or finally got rescued by Ahsoka or anyone else, then Ahsoka would, if she'd actually understood what she was being told, know what to look for when Vader demanded she send Talzin after the boy again. 

That was as far as she was going to go.

For either of them.


	17. Lost and Found I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few other people aside from Ahsoka and Obi-Wan know Luke is gone, and have been so for two weeks now, and react to it.

**Imperial Center. The apartment of Senator Leia Organa.**

Leia couldn't sleep. Turning over, she yanked one of her pillows to herself and pressed it over her head. It made it marginally darker in the bedroom - the blackout filter on the transparisteel and the curtains usually kept Imperial Center's constant city lights out, but _lighting_ wasn't why she couldn't sleep.

Two weeks since she'd last heard from Luke. 

Two weeks since her parents had commed her and said Luke was in the hands of the Empire. She was sure they'd only said that since they all knew she'd been in contact with Luke and would notice he stopped comming her. They should've told her either way, because she had a _right_ to know! 

That was a weird thought which paused her for a moment, that she had a 'right' to know; not because she didn't think she ought to be informed of things like this, of an apparently important guest, a _Force-sensitive_ such, being taken by the Empire. 

No, it was because it was _Luke_. 

Luke, who'd become important over the almost three weeks he'd been on Alderaan, and through the intermittent comms in the weeks after that. Luke, who felt familiar and bright and like she'd known him _forever_ , which was terrifying and confusing but didn't make her back off like she would normally do. He'd just... settled into a place she knew she had settled into for him as well, and that had been that.

Leia didn't question it. Decided _not to_ question it. Instead she rolled over, pressed the pillow to her face and muffled a scream in her mouth and against the stuffing.

Was he all right? What would they _do_ to him? Was it because of the desertion or because he was Force-sensitive they'd gotten him? Her parents hadn't elaborated, either because they didn't know or didn't want to worry her. Either way it frustrated her to no end.

Laying there in the spangled twilight of her bedroom, well past midnight, Leia remembered Luke's angry desperation she not tell anyone where he was. Remembered how he'd smiled when she'd taken him out on the thrantas, or when they'd raced on speeder bikes... Remembered when he'd leaned into her on the flight back from their stargazing, and whispered, like it'd been the greatest secret he'd ever share, that he'd used to dream about a girl that reminded him of her.

Then he'd promptly blushed and looked away, looking really annoyed with himself.

She'd stared, heart thundering in her chest for a still, _aching_ moment, because then and there she remembered a few dreams as well... But she couldn't say that, and instead leaned in and kissed his cheek and whispered that dreams were just dreams but they were friends for real. The tension in his shoulders had disappeared and he'd nodded, smiling.

Biting her cheek, rage turned into a hard, glowing coal low in her gut. She wouldn't let them win. They'd get Luke back, and even if they _didn't_ she'd fight the Empire _for him_. 

For her could-have-would-have-would-never-be brother, because that was who the boy in _her_ dreams always had been.

She'd fight for _all_ the ones who couldn't. 

***  
 **Tatooine. Lars Homestead.**

Late afternoon light spilled in a reflected glow into the open dining area where Beru was making a last few finishing touches for dinner, such that didn't need heat or a stove. Owen had left half an hour earlier to work until dinner, having come home like usual to avoid the worst of the noontime heat.

Staring down at her hands as they worked automatically, she had to blink back the weight that seemed to press down on the back of her eyes. It had been fine earlier today, it had been fine up to noon and Owen coming back for lunch, and then he'd taken that astromech unit with him for the afternoon chores. The one the freighter pilot with the Wookiee crewmate had shown up with a little over two weeks ago.

Beru slowly closed her hands into fists and put them down in her lap to still the trembling.

The little astromech and the protocol droid the pilot had appeared with, said their nephew wanted him to make sure they got the droids, and then told them Luke had been taken in by an Imperial boarding party.

For desertion.

They'd known that, of course. Known that Luke had left the Academy, since Ben had appeared and taken them to the ship for a conversation with Luke, before Ben had left for three weeks.

And now, all of that had apparently been for no reason at all, and Luke was---

She took a shuddering breath and kept her eyes squeezed closed until the moisture no longer threatened to fall. Left the table and her task and wandered across the courtyard and up the stairs, into the small room Luke had slept in for almost seventeen years. 

She sat down in that bed and remembered the first night they'd left him in there.

What a night _that_ had been.

It was Owen who'd finally given in and fetched the toddler, bringing him back to their bed.

It was Owen who'd told Luke he'd reconsidered and that he could submit his application - regretting it instantly even as he grunted and smiled just a shade at Luke's excitement last year. Owen, who'd spent the last two weeks in tense, angry silence and then clutched her at night. Owen, who held her in the morning and let her rest her head on his shoulder and then left for the morning tasks.

Owen, who had, once, caught the five year old Luke as he'd flung himself with shrieking abandon off one of the stairs to be caught... and then Owen had stumbled, fallen to the ground. He'd been laughing, but he'd gotten a fracture in his left foot from that. Luke had been remorseful for _weeks_.

A hand over her mouth and clutching a very threadbare stuffed bantha, Beru breathed in harshly.

The bedroom smelled of sunwarmed rock and dust. It had lost the faint traces of oil, oiled machine parts and teenager through the months Luke had been gone, and while that hadn't _really_ bothered Beru before, these last two weeks...

Bending over, she pressed the stuffed toy to her face. And maybe there was some faint traces of toddler-child-teenager still lingering in the worn-out fluff of the bantha's fur. Maybe that made a few tears escape, soaked up by the fur.

Just one more secret the toy had probably been sworn to keep through the years.

***  
 **The _Millennium Falcon_ , hyperspace.**

Tossing a hand-held holotransceiver in the air that he'd found in one of the bunks while he'd been looking for a lost tool, Han knew - tried not to think about it, but _knew_ \- that the transceiver wasn't one of theirs. Wasn't one that they'd stolen, or someone had lost, or that they'd bought somewhere and only unearthed now.

No, he knew whose it must have been, so it'd only been here for around two weeks by now, but it didn't matter. He'd done what the kid had asked him to do, hand the droids over to his aunt and uncle and then they'd gotten the hell off Tatooine. 

He'd make his explanations to Jabba in another few weeks. Drag it out as long as he could before he _had to_ have some sort of excuse and apologise for the lost shipment of spice. A chance to get some of the credits back.

Time still to wait.

Time in which he was now staring at the holotransceiver in his hand and remembering the kid's expression as he dashed out of the cockpit and yelled for his astromech to come with him. Remembered the way the kid had sort of resignedly drooped as the lieutenant glanced between him and the datapad, then asked him to get the droids to his aunt and uncle.

He should've _realised_ something was wrong, actually wrong, the second the kid got nervous about them being boarded. That hadn't really been the reaction of someone jittery about being on the wrong side of the authority's attention, even when they were innocent and thus had (potentially) nothing to fear. No, that had been the guilt of the... well, _guilty_.

A guilt Han wasn't unfamiliar with---

"Damn it!" He tossed the transceiver and watched it slam into the bulkhead and fall to the deck with a clatter. He stomped over and almost crushed it under his boot, since tossing it hadn't actually done more than give it a few scrapes, apparently. Instead he froze and bent down, picking it up instead. "Hell, kid..."

Clutching the holotransceiver, Han gritted his teeth and shook the memory of Luke smiling at him in amused relief when he'd realised Han had been worried his aunt and uncle were his _owners_ out of his head. 

It didn't matter.

Wasn't like he could do anything about it. And anyway, he hadn't known the kid for more than hours.

It _didn't matter_.


	18. Lost and Found II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader and Luke have their own thoughts about the last two weeks.

**Outer edges of the Sluis Van solar system. The _Devastator_.**

Blue tinted the bright white metal and black leather and armour as Darth Vader sat, slightly bent over, in the chair in his meditation chamber. He did not need to be looking at the Academy file holo. He could, right now, if he disregarded the rule he'd set down for himself about Luke's bedroom, cross two rooms and find the boy sleeping in his bed.

That, there, was the reason he _was_ looking at the holo, however.

The fact that he _could_ do that, and had been able to - barring his duties, not being present on the _Devastator_ , or the two arguments they'd had, that was - do it for two weeks now. Two weeks which certainly hadn't been easy. It still wasn't, even if they hadn't had another argument since the one about Luke refusing to tell him where he'd been prior to Naboo.

Stroking the rounded edge of the projector, Vader took a slow, measured breath, heavy but yet relatively unhindered. Only in here though. And only in here could he, if he used the surveillance, actually see the child's real colouring. Taking Luke with him in here, however, was _inconceivable_. So it was this; the holos, and simply basking in the simple fact that his son was, as duties permitted, within touching distance.

It should _always_ have been like this, of course, and not just for the past two weeks and going forward, but the guilty parties would pay at some point. Perhaps not as soon as he wished, especially not when it came to his Master. Because that, in particular, would require Luke being more prepared and trained than he currently was, but _in the end_ they would pay.

Vader had to lighten his grip on the projector as the plastic creaked in his hand, the rotating holo flickering fitfully as the components were compressed. The holo showed, like it always did, a slim, still desert-bleached and slimly muscular young man with an awkward grin. Not much had changed yet comparing this over half a year old holo to the reality sleeping snugly in his bed two rooms over - hair was a little darker, he was perhaps a little leaner... nothing much about the awkwardness, yet.

Given time, however... 

Slowly, Darth Vader smiled. It wasn't much; a stretch of his lips that didn't go quite deep enough to pull at the sensitive skin and scar tissue enough to really hurt, only ache, but it was a comparatively relaxed expression that carried heavier emotions underneath. 

Because what he _wanted_ was to see the brilliant light of his son grow, enough so that _all_ would be able to see it and know where they stood relative to Luke, and see _Luke_ realise the extent of his own abilities and take delight in them.

Soon.

It took some effort not to turn the chair around and turn on the cameras, mostly curbed by the reminder that there actually were none in the bedroom, only in the outer room. So instead Vader bent over the holo again and thought back on the relatively relaxed three days since Luke had come out of his rooms. Not that he had been able to be around much, but having Luke quietly - or not so quietly, when he'd accidentally responded to a mutter Luke had made while working on the MSE - in the same room while he worked was...

Again, Vader was struck with a brief flare of consuming rage and frustration. This was not something he should be discovering _now_ , when the boy was almost eighteen. He took a breath and sat back, closing his eyes.

His son was here now, and here he would _stay_.

He focused back on the holo and the last two weeks.

***  
Standing by the door of the training room as he watched Vader fight against two duelling droids, the lightsabers painting red arcs in the air and certainly not set to a lower power like his when he trained against the droid Vader had adjusted for him. Staring, Luke caught himself quietly comparing the heavy, powerful thrusts and slashes - and surprisingly graceful maneuvering - with Ahsoka's quicker, lighter movements.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to _use_ any of those mauneuvers Vader was using, especially if he used two lightsabers, but if he could, he _would_ , so he was paying close attention. And he certainly wouldn't pass up an opportunity to watch Darth Vader in motion, especially when _he_ wasn't on the other end, even if his... even if Vader had only been testing him that first time. It was hard to appreciate Vader's skill, like that.

Now, there was nothing to keep him from doing that, and Luke had to consciously keep himself by the door - Vader had demanded he stay here if he was going to be in here at all, the room wasn't really built for observation - and not creep closer as the fight moved down the length of the room. 

There was barely restrained violence hovering in the air, and underneath that, simmering rage. It edged the Force in stinging cold, but Luke found he didn't mind. It wasn't _comfortable_ , but it wasn't aimed at him. And when Vader _had been_ frustrated at him, there hadn't been anything that cooled the Force with rage.

That was a few days ago, now. _That_ meant he'd been here on the _Devastator_ with... Luke paused, closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again, watching the dark (in more ways than one), armoured hurricane that currently was Darth Vader tear across the room and into the droids. He'd been here for little over two weeks with him.

In another week, he'd have been here, on this ship, with the Emperor's right hand man and someone who'd proclaimed himself his _father_ , for longer than he'd been on Alderaan.

Drumming his fingers against the wall behind him, Luke shifted a little on his feet.

He wasn't sure what he thought about that.

It'd been kind of... quiet, after he came out of his rooms. Sort of... nice? Scrunching his nose, then looking up sharply in time to see Vader jump, twisting in the air before he landed, cleaving one of the droids in two, which merely caused another one to activate and join the battle, Luke bit his lip.

Sort of nice, yes. 

Especially when he'd given some advice regarding how to put together the MSE droid. And _that_ had been a surprise, that Vader knew that. Yesterday there'd also been another chance to go sit in a TIE fighter cockpit, and not just the TIE Advanced Vader used, but the modified regular TIE fighter one that was apparently the one he'd use.

Because apparently he _was_ still going to get to go flying.

That thought made a smile bloom briefly on his lips, before he bit his lip again. That was nice, but it didn't take away from the unsettled realisation that soon he'd have stayed here for longer than with Leia, had already been here longer, now, than he'd been on Naboo and with his cousin and aunt and grandparents.

And it was well over half a year since he'd seen Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.

_That_ thought made his insides twist a little.

Glancing up and watching Vader twist, thrust and block from under the fringe that wasn't _quite_ long enough thanks to having been trimmed, Luke wondered if he could ask him about leaving a message. 

Maybe not _yet_ , but... later. 

He wanted to do the same for Leia and... the others, but he wasn't _stupid_. Revealing anyone else other than his aunt and uncle was as bad as telling him where he'd been, so he couldn't do that.

But... his aunt and uncle ought to be okay, probably even his mother's family, even if he couldn't talk to them directly (something told him, with a flare of annoyance, that Vader would be reluctant or outright refuse a direct comm). In fact, it _better_ be all right that he send them a message---

"Luke."

Looking up, Luke blinked. The droids were still and shut down, and his... and Vader stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips. It didn't make him feel nervous, though, despite the nearly annoyed-expectant air hanging around Vader.

"Yeah?" Straightening up, Luke resolved to ask about sending _some_ sort of message to his aunt and uncle and at least Ryoo later.

"I wish to evaluate your progress."

Hesitating for a moment, Luke pushed away from the wall and crossed the room to pick up the lightsabers he used, thinking, with less trepidation than he'd expected, that he'd be able to compare this with that first test and see if it felt any better.

Half an hour later, and Luke could conclude that yes, it did.

But also didn't; Vader was still utterly terrifying when you had him as your opponent, even if he wasn't trying to kill you.


	19. War Games I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Vader go flying! Or maybe "Luke tries to keep up with his father and does rather well".

At first Luke thought the restlessness that left him wandering from one end of his rooms to the other, unable to finish even a short set of workout or settle down and work on the MSE droid was because it was three days since Vader had had any time to take him to the hangar - or anywhere else. He'd barely been in the rooms at all, and when he _had_ , he'd been focused on datapads and holo projections of what Luke recognised as some sort of battle plans.

He wasn't sure they if they were real ones, possible ones or just simulations. All Vader would say was that it had to do with some sort of military exercise in a few days, and when Luke had asked if it was connected to the squadrons he'd seen swarming past the _Devastator_ several times so far, Vader had briefly nodded. All of that quiet distraction, however, hadn't left him as much of any sort of engaging company, though Vader _had_ inquired how his training with the droid was going. So that was... something?

But, as Luke turned towards the viewport and watched yet another squadron of TIE fighters scream silently past for the third time this hour, he knew that wasn't it. It also wasn't because he'd been told to be dressed in what would be three hours by now, yesterday (though the brief excitement since he knew that meant he was getting out of here briefly made him think it was because of that). 

No, Luke had realised, half an hour to go to whatever they were doing, sitting down in front of the computer and accidentally seeing the date, it was because he'd been here over three weeks now. That was longer than he'd been on Alderaan. 

Not the longest he'd been away from home, of course; that 'honour' still belonged to the Academy for several months yet. But that didn't take away from the fact that after being chased away from the Academy by that... warning, or whatever, he'd not been in any single place for very long.

Staring at the holo of some musical adventure drama or another - he actually liked this one, he'd found, but the words wouldn't register at the moment - Luke chewed his lip. Wondered how things would've gone if he hadn't gotten that warning and thus left before Vader had landed... Shaking his head, Luke put the helmet he'd been gripping in his hands on the desk, out of the way of the holo projector. 

The 'what if's' didn't matter; he didn't really _want_ things to have happened differently, because if so he wouldn't have met Leia, or Ahsoka, or started training with Ben and Ahsoka.

Wouldn't have found out about still having family on his mother's side, wouldn't have met them.

Could've done without the vision on Polis Massa, though, Luke thought, scrunching his nose. Especially since that'd almost led to... who knew what on Mustafar, if he'd gotten captured or landed. But, those were just _what if's_ again.

Almost a month and counting, and presumably he was going nowhere in the near future---

"Luke."

Looking up with a start into Vader's mask and realising he'd missed the doors opening _and_ the towering presence of Darth Vader getting closer, Luke nodded, pushed away his stomach still twisting uncertainly at the thought of not going anywhere, and picked up the helmet after turning off the computer.

"What're we doing?" Despite where his thoughts had been going, it was easy to walk up to Vader and follow him out into the rest of the quarters, pausing just as he was about to put on the helmet when Vader cocked his own slightly, not yet opening the door. The sense of the cold, fiery presence seemed to rest, lightly, just beyond his shoulders.

"Flying. I believe you are ready."

His heart skipped a beat at that proclamation, and Luke couldn't have stopped the grin even if he _wanted_ to. He _missed_ flying; flying around in the yacht since he left Alderaan had only underscored that fact, since before that he hadn't been flying properly for months. The simulations at the Academy weren't the same thing, and he'd been missing his puny Skyhopper something fierce.

Nearly twenty minutes later and sitting in the (rather cramped) cockpit of the TIE, Luke carefully didn't speed past the larger TIE Advanced, even if he certainly _wanted to_. He took flying seriously, and he wanted to _prove that_.

"Follow me," Vader's voice crackled over the comm along with a small, but somehow meaningful pause, "if you can."

Eyes narrowing, Luke certainly didn't miss the _challenge_ inherent in those three words. He didn't even need the warning, he thought with a huff - and yet startled when the Advanced rocketed away from the _Devastator_ at an angle. Determined not to be left behind, Luke yanked on the accelerator and followed the disappearing speck of metal, glinting in the sunlight from Sluis Van's distant sun.

He had less room to maneuver inside the cockpit thanks to the presence of the shield generator and the life support system; TIE fighters weren't designed with these in mind, and they'd been added to this one while leaving the hull intact, making it visually indistinct from any other standard TIE fighter. So it was, really, a good thing Luke was built pretty slim; the only thing he had less of was elbow room.

Something which served him well as he closed in on the TIE Advanced, only to have Vader dive and turn around in a single move, leaving him free to speed back towards the _Devastator_. Frowning, Luke bit his lip, closed his eyes and let go - felt the turn tear at the stabilisers, G-forces pulling at his stomach in a way that revealed the move had worked, and that it was something you wouldn't be able to do normally.

Most people didn't have the reaction time necessary to manipulate the controls both harshly and quickly enough to override the stabilisers like that, Luke realised with a blink.

But he didn't let that stall him, just tore after Vader, who led him to cut perpendicularly across the Star Destroyer's hull, then dove straight down along its side without a buffer curve, then followed the side towards the pointed tip.

They rose in tandem, side-by-side for a moment, and then the comm crackled to life again.

"How close can you fly to a larger ship's shields without having your own stripped away?"

Undoubtedly this was something Darth Vader already knew, so this was for _him_. Frowning as they flew high above the _Devastator's_ hull, in height with the command tower, Luke cocked his head.

"Fifteen meters?" It was half a guess, half brief math with some assumed numbers pulled from the output of a shield generator a fighter of this size could hold compared to a Star Destroyer.

"If you strip away your shields, you will not be back in that fighter until you have repaired both mine and yours," Vader said, his voice a rumble over the comm, and then they dove, right in front of the command tower, metal and transparisteel mere twenty meters away. Vader didn't even turn his fighter around proper to fly out over the length of the _Devastator_ again; instead he simply spun his TIE Advanced around to end up facing the right direction.

Luke didn't even do _that_ , rather he angled himself just slightly, flying backwards for a moment, completely blind aside from the fighter's sensors, before he made a similar turn that Vader had done at the start. He _could_ have flipped his TIE around, of course, but... why? His faint grin trailed off into tense thoughtfulness as Vader dropped closer to the Star Destroyer's hull and he followed.

Fifteen meters.

Ten.

Five, and there was an electrified humming vibrating all throughout the fighter, so very close to the Star Destroyer's far more powerful shields. Any closer, and his shield generator would be overloaded and forced into a shut-down and restart. 

The controls thrummed against his hands, but Luke kept the TIE stable, listening to the gentle pull of the Force of when to relax, when to give a little and when to pull back... But not yanking on the controls, since that would've made the fighter dip and scrape the shielded bottom edges of the solar panels and wings against the _Devastator's_ shields.

When they landed in the hangar half an hour later (even if they hadn't been flirting with the Star Destroyer's shields the whole of that time), Luke slumped back against the seat for a moment, closing his eyes and listening to the thunder in his ears. The grin pulled enough at his face it _hurt_.


	20. War Games II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's showing when they went flying has made Vader take a decision, which leads to Luke getting the chance to fly with a squadron and not "just" his father. It'll be good practice for the future.

Still quietly pleased from yesterday - a sensation that was frankly surprising and somewhat alien nowadays, considering it hadn't come from the grim satisfaction of a completed mission, a stray Jedi survivor killed, or any other _necessary_ duty done, but rather from the simple joy of flying. 

It was... 

Vader would rather not think about how long it was since he'd taken some measure of pleasure from such a simple thing, but he'd been pushed harder yesterday than he had in decades, even with that skirmish outside Lothal a few years ago. The fact that it was his own son that had been on the other end only enhanced the muted satisfaction... and added some pride to it, as well.

It was the way that flight had gone, and Luke's nearly dogged determination to, for once so far, actually obey - admittedly it was perhaps not quite fair; Luke listened and followed his orders when he had the time to be present for training, after all - that led Darth Vader to leading Luke through the corridors again, taking him with him despite that he hadn't planned this at all.

But considering they were still far enough away from Sluis Van it'd take more than half a day on sublights to get there, and that Luke would be kept busy, Vader thought it might be worth it... and it'd further Luke's education. Though how much he'd get the chance to fly in a squadron in the future was certainly an uncertain prospect.

Luke was nearly vibrating with curiosity as he followed him, especially when they veered away from the 'usual' route that'd take them to the hangar their fighters were in and they instead entered the ready room to a hangar five minutes away from there. Luke paused momentarily in the doorway before he followed him, surprise bright in the Force when he spotted the two TIE fighter pilots standing there quietly, helmets under their arms.

The boy followed quickly, however, and Vader waved him forward, pleased to note the surprise was gone and the curiosity was back.

"Black 2, Black 9," he said, more for Luke's sake than the two members of the Black Squadron, but still noted the way they straightened up, expressions flat and controlled. Luke's surprise had flickered again - it was clear he recognised what squadron they belonged to, if nothing else. 

"The Inquisitor will be flying with us for the exercise today as Black 13, and," another pause as he let himself glance down at his son, catching the tiny tilt of the helmet, and smiled faintly, "if he does well, he will be flying with us during the exercise in three days. Black 9, you will be his wing for the duration."

It was difficult not to turn into Luke's excited surprise at his proclamation; instead he focused on Black 9, who had straightened further and saluted, her close-cropped hair doing nothing to dispel the severity of her facial features. She was the only woman in Black Squadron, and the only woman for _several_ squadrons that the _Devastator_ housed. 

She had more than earned her place, if one cared about any possible difference in performance between women and men. Which wasn't something Vader had much for, and he thought even less of the restrictive policies of the Empire's military and navy.

He was, however, not in charge of such policy. Despite the comments he'd dropped once or twice his Master had waved them away.

"To your ships," he rumbled and then turned to leave, confident he wouldn't just be followed but obeyed - by _all_ present.

***  
Luke couldn't _quite_ believe what Vader had said in that ready room, and it was slightly hard to concentrate on what he was doing at the prospect of not just flying with a squadron - any less _this_ squadron, no matter what he thought of the Empire and its military and navy - but do so for the military exercise Vader had mentioned, the one apparently all the TIE fighters he'd been spotting flying past the _Devastator_ the last few days were training for.

The chance to not just catch glimpses of this, whatever it would be, but actually get to _participate_... Well, he wouldn't give up such an opportunity, especially since it was just an exercise.

"Ever flown in formation before, Black 13?" the slightly filtered, but surprisingly soft voice of Black 9 floated over the comm, probably on a closed channel. The voice was a surprise given her nearly rock-like facial features, though he remembered her eyes hadn't been nearly as unsettlingly dead as Black 2. 

Luke had rather been ready for some condescension (and maybe that wasn't a fair assumption), but Black 9's voice betrayed nothing but professional inquiry.

"No," he admitted, shrugging even if she couldn't see it. Brief static spat over the channel, and Luke guessed she'd snorted and he frowned. When she spoke again, however, it was with a surprisingly respectful tone.

"Since Lord Vader knows what he's doing, you must be something. You look out for me, I look out for you, but it's your responsibility to keep the rest of the squadron in your awareness as well, in addition to bogeys," Black 9 said, then snorted, and this time there might have been a tiny, wry smile in her voice as well, Luke couldn't quite tell, "not that there will be any for this exercise, but if you get through this and pass whatever parameters Black Leader has set for you to fly with us in three days, _then_ you'll have to account for bogeys. Ready?"

Taking a breath and wishing he knew what those 'parameters' his... that Vader had undoubtedly set up _were_ so he knew what was needed to succeed, Luke shook his head and settled into the seat better, hands tightening over the controls.

"Yeah."

Or rather, he _had to be_ ready, and Luke intended to be so, considering that what was at stake was a non-lethal military exercise and he wouldn't have to participate in any actual attack.


	21. War Games III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has a few thoughts about what's going on for the exercise, and gets his first look at the captain of the Star Destroyer that's participating in their little war game.

Luke watched, curiously, as the mottled swirling of hyperspace drew out into starlines and then turned into stars as they dropped out of lightspeed, depositing them... nowhere in particular, apparently. Blinking, Luke glanced up at Vader since he stood right next beside him, the bridge a quiet murmur of activity around them.

But this seemed to be where they were supposed to be, despite that two hours in hyperspace could have put them in an actual system. Frowning at the viewport which showed nothing but black space, distant stars and clouds of gasses, he wondered if they were further rimward now, or more coreward, and whether they'd gone along the Rimma Trade Route only or switched to the Hydian Way at some point. Impossible to know, and he couldn't check anything from here, so instead Luke thought back last evening, when Vader had told him to be ready to leave at 0900.

"So what _are_ we doing?" Luke asked, leaned against the viewport and watching what was probably one of the last squadrons finishing their training run, "I'd like to know since I'm actually participating." He grinned as he said that, because ever since Vader had said that he'd 'performed more than adequately' to get to fly with them during the exercise, Luke had been filled with a quiet excitement every time he thought about it. Now that it was less than half a day left, Luke was finding it slightly hard to concentrate on anything but that.

Not that different from a few days ago, after his realisation he'd been on the _Devastator_ longer than anywhere else since he left the Academy, but for a far more welcome reason.

"I have been given leave to add another ship to Death Squadron," Vader said without looking up from the datapad, and Luke couldn't help his frown at the choice of words. 'Given leave'. It reminded him, suddenly, all too much of their argument during the pacification of that Falleen colony, and what Vader had said about the Emperor.

"The exercise tomorrow is to judge if the Star Destroyer in question performs adequately. One possible candidate has already been eliminated."

For a moment, Luke wasn't sure if 'eliminated' meant Vader had literally gotten rid of this first Star Destroyer or something... but probably not.

To be honest, despite having had a whole evening, the night, and this morning to think about it, Luke was still trying to settle on if Vader had done something to this previous captain and his Star Destroyer or not. He'd like to say no, but given the pall of tense, fearful concentration that smothered the bridge, Luke wouldn't put it past him.

A thought which he didn't like _at all_ , but he wasn't an idiot. On the other hand, considering how Vader had phrased that he'd been 'given leave' to add another ship, he could probably not actually get rid of a whole Star Destroyer just because it didn't measure up to what he wanted for Death Squadron.

Outside, the viewport still showed nothing, though after another moment one of Death Squadron's other ships came out of hyperspace. Another few minutes and a third Star Destroyer dropped out of lightspeed, and Luke was pretty sure this would be the one Vader wanted to add to his squadron. 

Vader nodded at the sight of the new Star Destroyer and turned around, and Luke, not sure what else to do, went after him. Glancing around the bridge as he followed Vader over to the holo transceiver at the back, Luke's eyes strayed to one of the lieutenants as they passed him. He was, like any of the other ones, concentrated on his work and tense - but there was just something that felt _odd_ about that tenseness, and Luke could swear he'd seen the man before...

Then they had passed him and since it'd look weird if he continued to stare, Luke pushed the thought of that lieutenant out of his head as the holo lit up.

If the image projected was life-size, the man was shorter than Luke, which was honestly a surprise - everyone on board that Luke had seen so far seemed to be mostly more or less taller than he was, sometimes the same height, but never really _shorter_. He also looked slightly pinched, with worry lines that not even the slight fuzziness of the holo could hide.

"Lord Vader," the presumably-captain said, bowing sharply and Luke knew he didn't imagine the brief flick of the man's eyes towards him, but they didn't linger as he straightened up, focusing on the one of the two of them that indisputably _should_ have his attention, "the _Accuser_ is at your disposal."

"Captain Piett," Vader said, his voice rumbling slightly deeper inside the little niche the holo transceiver was set up in, "you are ready to begin, then."

Not a question, and Piett dipped his head in a brief, shallow nod.

"The weapons systems are being recalibrated as we speak, and five squadrons are ready to launch, as per the plans for the exercise."

It took Luke a brief, confused moment before he got it, but then it seemed rather obvious. Of _course_ they wouldn't be using live artillery on each other, since that would waste Imperial resources and personnel. 

All weapons would undoubtedly be set at a harmless strength that would impact on the shields and plating and dissipate with no damage, but enough to register hits. That way, the sensors would be able to tell if anyone had gotten hit, the 'damage' inflicted would be able to be calculated, and the whole exercise would play out like a 'real' battle, with 'casualties'... just with no one actually dying.

Pretty clever, actually.

"Then we will begin in fifteen minutes. Captain Wermis, the bridge is yours."

The holo went dark, and Luke followed Vader out from the bridge, grinning behind the visor and mask and, for the first time, pretty glad he _was_ wearing it so no one could see.


	22. War Games IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader does, of course, have reasons for this exercise, but he's a little scattered at the moment, what with Luke's participation... and some gatecrashers.

Refusing to give in to the urge to turn around and inspect Luke's TIE - and get a last glimpse of the boy, settled in the cockpit already - one last time, Vader lowered himself into his seat, running through the start-up sequence. 

There was no more reason to be worried about Luke participating in _this_ exercise than the one a few days ago, since, even if they were now going to be firing on each other, the lasers were all set to a low, dissipating-on-impact setting, barely enough to let sensors register the hit.

This would, he told himself, give his son valuable experience in a (relatively) safe setting, and there was even _less_ chance the boy might get the idea, or the chance, to fly off compared to when they were still in the Sluis Van system. They were _weeks_ away from any nearby system's outermost planet by sublight, and sublight engines were the only thing Luke had access to on his modified TIE.

Add to that that Luke hadn't actually mentioned anything about running away, and Vader might be somewhat paranoid about this.

Shooting out of the hangar and having the rest of Black Squadron fall in formation around him, with Luke settling with all the precise grace and ease of a far more experienced pilot on Black 9's left, and Vader was free to focus on the space between the _Devastator_ and the _Accuser_ that would be their battlefield.

Technically he should, perhaps, be on the bridge, directing the battle himself, but this was as much a test of Wermis' skill as it was of Piett's. A light curl teased his lip as Darth Vader turned his TIE Advanced in an arc, bringing the whole squadron around to face the oncoming squadrons the _Accuser_ had sent out - three more squadrons were on 'their' side; rather unnecessarily, really.

This was a waste of time. 

While he might come around to one or at the most two of the other potential candidates in a pressured situation where he had to choose someone aside from the one he actually was considering, none of those had quite what he was looking for. The first test had absolutely been a waste of time, and unfortunately knowingly so. It couldn't be helped, really. He'd chosen all five on the shortlist carefully, and even more carefully who would go first, well-aware he couldn't just put the one which interested him the most at the top of the list.

Of course, if this worked out as he wanted it to, he would be showing his hand to his Master when the _Executor_ was ready to be launched, but that was still over a year away, which would give him _time_.

Time to deal with the Navy, time to integrate the _Accuser_ into Death Squadron, time to train Luke...

Refocusing on the battle as harmless laser fire spewed past him and the rest of the TIEs in the squadron, Vader dropped sideways, Black 2 and 3 following. As usual, though, they were slightly behind. None could really keep up with him, though Luke had certainly managed for long stretches when they flew together. 

That brought his mind back on Luke, and he stretched out his awareness not just to the surrounding battlefield in general, but towards the bright blaze that was his son. What he got was excitement, exhilaration and tight, determined focus, familiar by now.

They were ahead and to the left, and as Luke and Black 9 shot past an opposing TIE now dead in space from a shot either of the two might have fired and then arced back around, Vader allowed himself a small smile. Despite only having flown in a TIE a handful of times by now, and with a squadron _once_ , and that in a routine training exercise, Luke was performing exceedingly well.

To be expected, really - Vader frowned, 'shot down' one, then two, three, turned tightly sideways and got a fourth and then met back up with his wings - Luke clearly took to flying like _he_ had. His insistence that the boy learn the TIEs controls as well as he forced him to before he let him into one to fly was more because Luke had no experience with real TIE controls at all, only simulations and his own Skyhopper, which was set up entirely differently.

Glancing outside, he saw the _Accuser_ angle itself perpendicular to the _Devastator_ , changing the profile it was presenting, and that was an... interesting move. Beyond the two Star Destroyers engaged in the fight, the _Conquest_ hung quietly, waiting for its own turn to join and put additional pressure on the _Accuser_ and its captain.

As he dove under a TIE, turning sharply and firing, adding another to hang dead in space - simulating but not replicating the debris flying around during a real battle, and adding more obstacles than would normally be found in space during a battle - Vader stretched out to find Luke again. 

There was no change in the boy's mood, but Black Squadron had spread out, and Luke was now on the far side of the battle, closer to the _Accuser_ than he really should be. That position would put him in danger of falling behind the frontline and adding the Star Destroyer's lasers as a potential threat. Presumably Black 9 had informed the boy of this, and that they should move, but if she _hadn't_...

Not that Luke could be harmed by the lasers if the _Accuser_ did fire, but Vader would far prefer Luke being on _this_ side of the battlefield.

Scowling and chasing after an 'opposing' TIE that was artfully dodging the _Devastator's_ turbolaser web and tearing towards the bridge and the shield generators, Vader reached for the comm to alert Luke as to where he was and where he _should_ be. He might not listen to Black 9 in this, if he thought he had a good position to do more damage where he was, but he _would_ listen to his father and commanding officer.

Vader's hand froze right above the buttons as a pseudo waver disturbed space somewhere beyond the _Conquest_. Abandoning his chase of the TIE that was doing an impressive job of avoiding him - he would need to find out who that pilot was - Vader turned his TIE around just as a Mon Calamari cruiser and several squadrons of fighters dropped out of hyperspace, above and nearly on top of the _Conquest_.

Two thoughts slammed through Darth Vader's mind nearly simultaneously.

Someone had sold the information of the location for this exercise and he would _find them_.

Far more importantly, however, was that this was no longer a relatively safe game, and _his son_ was out in it, only separated from the cruiser by the _Conquest_ and the _Accuser's_ bulk, and not separated from the enemy fighters _at all_ as they descended on them.

Descended and had easy pickings, since both the Star Destroyers and the TIEs needed to reset their weapons' systems.


	23. War Games V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Luke's out in the middle of this disaster of an unintentional battle. How does that go?

"Abort, Black 13!"

The Force and Black 9 screamed - each in their own way - at the same time, and Luke yanked on the controls without thinking, sending his TIE spinning out of the pursuit vector and avoiding the searing spears of red that pierced through the space he _would have been_ in. 

A fighter of a wholly unfamiliar design thundered by behind him, and as he spun out of the way of another volley, he saw more of the same unfamiliar fighters in the open space between the three Star Destroyers, and, above the _Conquest_ , a ship he _thought_ was Mon Calamari.

_Rebels_.

He couldn't fire on _them_ \- not that he could fire _at all_ at the moment, and it'd take over two minutes for the weapons' systems to reset, recharge and recalibrate so they _could_ be fired in a way that was actually useful for offense, but in the meantime---

A TIE fighter exploded in a brief, brilliant burst before vacuum smothered the fire and set the debris spinning in stately lethality through space to the left and above Luke's current position, the sensors registered another TIE exploding behind him, and Luke realised a few things. He might not get a real choice about firing or not, but that still required the weapons' systems to be reset and functional. He was right out in the middle of what had turned into an actual battle, and so was...

Reflexively, unthinkingly, suddenly worried he might have died without Luke noticing because no matter how he felt about it, Darth Vader was still his father, Luke reached out. The comm whispered online at the same time as he brushed against the burning supernova that was Vader. 

He wasn't dead, and at the same time, Luke realised another thing.

Because suddenly, where before he'd only really been able to sense the overwhelming _presence_ of Vader, and, in some cases, stronger emotions, usually anger... In this moment there were other things as well. There was rage there, yes. Incomprehensibly, also fear (who'd have thought _Darth Vader_ could be afraid?). Familiar anger, and then a molasses-slow, nearly apathetic hate (for a lot of things), but above all of those things rose something huge and heavy which was already reaching for him.

It was a desire Luke had mostly seen reflected in Uncle Owen's angry yelling and forbidding him to do something, in Aunt Beru's calmer explanations and soft, dry hands - things that he hadn't really understood until he left for the Academy.

Protectiveness.

"Luke---!"

Lasers splashed off his shields at an angle, drowning out Vader's voice over the comm, and Luke couldn't pay attention to anything but to the sudden, night-cold chill that ran through him. He set his TIE fighter spinning away on pure reflex, avoiding _most_ but not _all_ of the volley, the Force humming with every little motion he made. 

At the same time Black 9 forced the rebel fighter off course away from him, and Luke could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel his heart in his _mouth_. If he hadn't had shields, he would've died.

He could still have.

_Father!_ Unthinkingly, mouth frozen on a gasp a heartbeat or two away from _not having died_ , Luke followed the connection to an end he hadn't dared go to before. Had barely been aware of that it was there, reaching for the black fire instead of keeping himself at a decided distance, as much as that was possible in the Force.

Immediately as he righted his TIE and swung back around, dodging another few blasts and joined up alongside Black 9 again, he felt utterly embarrassed at himself and the cry he'd tossed into the Force. Embarrassed, and maybe a little relieved, too. 

Relieved, because it felt strangely good to actually acknowledge it like that, especially when no one had heard it. Embarrassed that he'd cried out _at all_ , but in the end it didn't matter, did it? No one had heard. Not even the intended recipient---

_Son._ Vader's voice rang - tight and nearly violently restrained, but also brighter, with not as much of a rumbling baritone as what came out of the vocoder, but still authoritative - in his mind. Luke jerked as the single word registered, nearly pushing his TIE off-course and into collision with a rebel fighter. They both broke away just in time.

_You---! I... You **heard that**?_ Luke sputtered, confused but no longer embarrassed. Shy, maybe, but not embarrassed. 

Having acknowledged the truth, because he _knew_ Vader had spoken the truth back when he'd said it in the turbolift, it didn't feel as odd to hear Darth Vader call him 'son'. Luke wasn't sure he was ready to say it out loud yet, especially as he hadn't really thought Vader had heard it - how could he have, anyway?

Their connection apparently worked in more ways than just letting them sense each other much more clearly than he could sense anyone else... Luke shook that thought away; there were other things to thing about.

_**Later** , young one. Black 9 will escort you to the _Accuser _, and you are to proceed there **immediately**!_

He wanted to protest, wanted to... What? He didn't actually want to fire on the rebel fighters, and if he didn't do _that_ , Luke wasn't dumb enough not to realise he wouldn't just be a liability, he would be a _target_.

Well, more of one than he already was.

Aside from that, there really was no way to say 'no' to that tone of voice. Not at the moment, not with the memory of laser fire splashing off his shields (which regular TIE fighters didn't even have, which meant he would've been dead) singing through his mind and limbs both.

_... fine. But---_

_No. When you land, join Captain Piett on the bridge and assist him as you can._

Scowling at nothing in particular, Luke frowned and then let out a sigh, sharply veering to follow Black 9 as they avoided two rebel fighters, then he reached for the comm.

"Black Leader said to escort me to the _Accuser_ , and I guess you're free to rejoin the battle after that," Luke said, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions that vied for attention, but realised again that would have to wait. There was still space to cross to get to the _Accuser_ and into a hangar.

"Second lesson, Black 13," Black 9 said, deadpan and professional as she fired and caused a brief fireball to burst in front of them from the rebel fighter, "even if you don't like the orders, you obey them. Especially in combat."

"I _know_." Luke was pretty sure there were moments you could ignore a superior officer's orders, but his brain was empty - better, really, since that let him focus on what he was doing, diving away and circling around a rebel fighter, wishing it could just _leave_ so it didn't get destroyed.

Wondered what they were here for; a single cruiser couldn't stand up to three Star Destroyers, even if all three of them needed to reset their weapons' systems...

"Mind, you've already survived longer than most rookie pilots in their first space battle do," Black 9 said in that weird tone of flat professionalism and vaguely-amused advice he'd heard before, "since most of them don't even last thirty seconds."

Luke stared at the growing shadow of the _Accuser_ as they neared it, banked sharply, and turned back around to follow Black 9 as she led them towards one of the hangars.

Thirty seconds?

That was _nothing_!


	24. War Games VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett deals with the mess he's been presented with, Darth Vader tries to deal with one of the worst scares of his life.

He could've lost him.

The thought was ice and fire in his veins, pulsed like thunder through the wounds on his head, and somehow, despite that it should be utterly impossible because his prosthetics negated such unintentional input, there was the slightest tremble in his hands where they clutched the controls. 

Not even the memory of Luke (intentionally, but still) calling for him, calling his _father_ could negate the screaming reality that that could've been the last he ever heard and felt from his son.

Tightening his grip on the controls, teeth gritted enough to send a stab of fresh, bright pain through the all-encompassing pulse roaring through his head, Darth Vader kept the TIE fighter Luke was in stubbornly in sight.

He could have _lost him_.

Fighters exploded like stars around him as Vader cut across the battlefield, intent on catching up with his son and Black 9 and escort the boy to the _Accuser_ himself. 

He almost shot down a TIE or two in his distraction along with the X-wings, his single-minded intent in getting where he wanted to be making them all out to be nothing more than obstacles that had to be removed. There were too many variables, too many possibilities of Luke being shot at again to trust Luke's safety to Black 9 only, no matter her competence.

However, after breaking through the other side of the majority of the battle taking place in the space between the three Star Destroyers, all TIE fighters now having regained their lasers at full strength (though with a shameful amount of losses from the minutes _before_ that happened), Luke and Black 9 were already under the shadowed underside of the _Accuser_ and in another few moments Luke would have entered a hangar.

He still set his TIE on a lazy curve alongside the same plane as the _Accuser_ , shooting down another two X-wings as they came too close, making sure none of the rebel fighters passed him.

The noise of his respirator was loud in his ears and mind.

He could've lost him.

By now, Luke would have entered a hangar, however, and he would be as safe as he _could be_ \---

Frowning, Vader realised he'd allowed himself to be distracted, and while _Luke_ knew what he'd been told to do, there was another party who didn't.

Noting Black 9 on her way back from the _Accuser_ , Darth Vader dove back into the actual fight while he opened the comm again to rectify his earlier lapse. There was still a cloud of black (terror) rage clinging around him, but he channelled it to were it belonged and would be of greater use instead of stealing his concentration.

The dark side roared up with nearly comforting familiarity, and all else fell away, aside from the bright, blue sun that was his son, safely ensconced onboard the _Accuser_ for the moment.

***  
For fifteen minutes, the exercise went well, and Piett was actually starting to relax into it. Fifteen minutes, and while it wasn't _quite_ your standard military training exercise, not with who was both participating and the judge at the end of it, there was still the familiar motions of going through it.

This was, after all, a mock battle, and there was only one thing you were supposed to do during those, and _especially_ in this one; win, or at the least last as long as possible with whatever means you had. Winning wasn't really possible, not with the _Conquest_ waiting in the wings to overwhelm them. But even so, he would, by the Stars, drag it out as long as possible.

And then the Mon Calamari battle cruiser and its fighter wings dropped out of hyperspace.

For a brief, startled moment, Piett could do nothing but stare while his brain whispered that this shouldn't be possible - someone must have sold the coordinates out. Then he barked out an order to have the _Accuser's_ weapons' system reset and charged so they could _do something_ about the battle cruiser, which was laying into the _Conquest_ like a nexu with stunned prey.

Which was basically what the _Conquest_ was at the moment.

"Are there any TIE fighter wings that _didn't_ have their weapons' systems adjusted for this exercise?" He already knew the answer to that, however, and was cursing silently in his head when he got the expected negative. They'd been ready and expecting to throw out nearly all their fighters in this exercise, since they'd be up against two opponents.

Opening his mouth, he didn't have the chance to say anything before the comms officer called for him, and dread instantly curled in his stomach. It was reflexive, an automatic reaction to the probable origin of that call, learned years ago and again just recently. Piett ignored the sensation as he hurried over, however, sending the officer away.

"Milord?"

This would be awkward if he guessed wrong.

"Captain Piett," Lord Vader's voice rolled from the speaker like quiet thunder, and if he'd been speaking with anyone else, if the situation had been different, he might have congratulated himself, just a little, for guessing correctly. He didn't. "These are your orders..."

Piett didn't understand them, but it didn't matter; they would be obeyed, of course.


	25. War Games VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets his first impressions of the _Accuser's_ captain, and witnesses the foolhardy daring of two rebel pilots.

Hurrying down the featureless corridors of the _Accuser_ and passing officers and stormtroopers who glanced at him in confusion and some wariness, Luke was relieved he'd walked to the _Devastator's_ bridge a few times by now. Not that the hangar he'd landed his TIE in had been the same one where Vader was keeping their TIEs or anything, and he hadn't walked quite this way before, but by now he was at least passingly familiar with Star Destroyer layout that he didn't get hopelessly lost.

The blast doors to the bridge opened and he slowed his steps to at least walk through those, even if he'd been running before. In the distance, through the viewport and across space, the _Conquest_ was trailing veils of frozen gasses from the air leaking out of the Star Destroyer, and brief flashes of explosions bloomed up all across her hull.

Luke stopped a few steps inside the bridge and stared across the length of the bridge, out the viewport on the other end to the Star Destroyer.

Felt, distantly, the Force tremble and squirm, _almost_ sending skitters of pain into his perception, but he couldn't quite grasp them and didn't really want to. The _Conquest_ was definitely lost, trailing air, fleeing shuttles, TIEs and debris, and Luke wasn't sure whether he should feel happy for the rebels or sick at the loss of so many lives - both, probably.

It _was_ war.

"Inquisitor."

Jerking a little in surprise, having nearly forgotten where he was, Luke turned and came face to face--- or rather, visor, since he _was_ wearing his helmet and had remembered to close visor and mask up when he left his TIE, with the captain of the _Accuser_. The first thing that came to mind was that the holo earlier had been life-size; the man _was_ shorter than he was, though it didn't diminish any of his tightly controlled authority.

The second impression was a quiet, tired concentration, the sort that came from sleeping too little and pouring all your energy into your work, and having done so for _years_ , expecting the best of yourself and forcing both body and mind to obey.

"Captain Piett," Luke said, straightening up and saluting more on memory of the Academy than anything else. Out of the corner of his vision he watched the Mon Calamari cruiser move towards the _Devastator_ and realised that they were further away from the other ships (whole and not) than the _Accuser_ had been earlier in the battle. Luke had no idea what that meant, _if_ it meant anything, but it didn't seem very important at the moment. Not to _him_ anyway, since he had other things to do.

Talking of those things...

"Lord Vader said I was to be at your... disposal." It was frankly _hard_ not to turn that into a question or not sound more dubious than he _hoped_ he didn't, partly for the word-choice; those were Vader's words, not his. Also partly from having to say 'Lord Vader', especially when he'd _just_ called him 'Father', if only in his head. Or whatever that way of communication was.

"I've been informed," Captain Piett said, nodding shortly, a quick, flickering glance going from the viewport to Luke and back, "though hopefully none of your particular skills will be needed at the moment."

Luke agreed - he wasn't even sure what Vader... what his father thought he was supposed to _do_ , here, really. The lightsaber at his hip wasn't capable of more than deflecting laser blasts, and he doubted any rebels were going to be _boarding them_ , and aside from that... Luke was pretty sure that even if he one day ended up capable of literally pushing a starfighter away from himself, he certainly couldn't do it _now_.

"Thirty seconds until weapons are ready, Captain!" someone called from the right-hand crew pit, and Luke bit his lip. Wondered when the rebels were going to leave or if they would all stay long enough to get surprised by the _Devastator_ and _Accuser's_ weapons coming back fully online. If they did, the outcome would be a foregone conclusion; a single cruiser against two Star Destroyers was nothing. 

Remembering the Star Destroyer he'd been on for more than a month by now, Luke's gaze wandered over there, wincing at the beating it was taking at the moment. Despite that, it wouldn't go down like the _Conquest_ had; the shields were deflecting most of the damage, and what damage was being inflicted wouldn't be enough to take the _Devastator_ out of commission.

Streaks of glowing exhaust from two sets of four-nozzle engines burned briefly in the blackness of space, away from the flickering display of the battle being fought by the fighters, and Luke frowned as he followed the light. What was...

Two rebel fighters, coming right at the _Accuser_.

Did they really think they might have a chance - well, why not? A lucky shot if the shields were misaligned would let them get the shield generators, and then they could get the bridge.

If they had the time.

Which they _didn't_ , because those thirty seconds were trickling away.

Heart speeding up, Luke reached for the Force without even thinking about it, unsure what it was he was doing. Dimly he heard someone yell about the fighters, heard Piett snap something, but he was focused on those two rebel fighters, elegant S-foils spread wide for the battle as they hurtled closer.

Staring hard at the approaching fighters, he didn't know what he had to do, or what he _could_ do, but they needed to leave. 

_Now_. 

Please.


	26. War Games VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two rebel pilots survive thanks to a memory and Luke's unfocused use of the Force.

_Circle back!_

The memory, clear as day and accompanied by a sharp, tugging sensation of anxiety, starkly different from the low-key battle panic and the clear-headed calm that came with having faced possible death several times already during this short battle almost made Red Three turn around on pure reflex.

He reached for the comm instead, still focused on their target.

"Red Two, estimate to when the Star Destroyers might get their guns back?" 

The anxiety refused to leave, and the memory of a situation that had been one among many when it came to his friend and his instincts had saved them made Red Three _itchy as a bantha_ to turn around.

"You think we should abort?" Red Two's voice crackled a little, tension high in his voice.

"Yeah."

They'd decided on this run both because they were young and drunk on the battle, let free into it and separated from the rest of the squadron by an enemy TIE that had torn through their squadrons like a sand demon. But now, suddenly, despite the fact that the Star Destroyer still hung quiet and for some reason had retreated from the battle (the reason why Red Two had said they should check it out and try a run, perhaps it was more damaged from the exercise the Imps had been running than what was visible, somehow), there was that anxiety, and the memory of that bright, tension-tight voice which didn't at all sound like Red Two's ringing in his head.

"Right, let's go, see if we can circle around to get closer to the _Pearl of Cala_ again," Red Two said and they broke off, angling away sharply.

Green plasma suddenly spewed hot through the space they _had_ been in, so sudden it was questionable if they'd have been able to avoid it in time if they hadn't decided to abort, and Red Three tightened his grip on the controls to stem the slight shudder that ran through him.

"All units, retreat! Scatter protocol!" The comm almost screeched with the hurry it'd been activated in and the authoritative, tight snap of Captain Takkun rang out. _Pearl of Cala_ was quickly disengaging from the _Devastator_ , who was now firing back. Red Two laughed sharply.

"Good thing you said to abort. Ready for a jump?"

"I was ready _yesterday_ ," Red Three breathed out, feeling the sort of laughter from having survived bubble up in his own voice, along with the beginning pain of pilots lost. They'd taken down one Star Destroyer and damaged the flagship of Death Squadron, though; not a mean feat. 

The relief of seeing hyperspace bloom out in front of him was only newly learned - this was his second mission with the Alliance. Staring at the mottled swirl before he darkened the canopy, Red Three frowned, wondering why he'd suddenly thought of _that_ memory... 

He shook it off, one trembling hand tightening into a fist. Didn't matter why. Maybe it even made sense he'd think of that in the middle of a battle with the Empire; that was partly why he was _here_ , after all.

Biggs Darklighter breathed out and slumped back against his seat, eyes closed.


	27. War Games IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rebels have left, now Piett deals with the immediate aftermath and puzzles over the Inquisitor on his bridge.

The tension in the Inquisitor's shoulders evaporated when the two rebel fighters which had been on a very risky run right at them (and presumably at their shield generators) broke off, Piett noted out of the corner of his eye while still giving the order to fire. The X-wings avoided the beams, if barely, but a second would probably...

Ah.

The rebels were fleeing.

Frowning slightly, well aware he could probably get a few of them without risking their own TIEs if he was just somewhat closer to the battle and the Mon Calamari cruiser, Piett gave no order to close the distance to the actual battlefield.

Lord Vader had ordered him to withdraw as soon as the Inquisitor he was sending was on board and to keep any rebel fighters from escaping if they used his vector as an escape route, so that was what he would do. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but he wasn't foolish; obeying Lord Vader's order's was paramount if he wanted to survive and continue to serve.

So even when the rebels retreated on the same vector they'd arrived in, passing the broken husk of the _Conquest_ which was still slowly falling apart, he didn't order the _Accuser_ to move closer so they could fire or cut the fleeing cruiser off. The cruiser, he noted, which was trailing some atmosphere. The _Devastator_ had managed to give back a little of what it'd been given, though the Mon Calamari ship was obviously less damaged than the Star Destroyer.

All that was left to do was wait, since presumably some orders would come when the Inquisitor was ordered back to the _Devastator_.

Talking of the _Inquisitor_...

Glancing to the black-clad figure, Piett could tell he must be young. It wasn't really his build, but more in the way he held himself, especially now that he was no longer tense and staring fixedly at the rebel fighters, which were now long gone. Well, _presumably_ had been staring at the approaching X-wings; the mask and mirrored visor made it impossible to tell exactly where the Inquisitor was looking, aside from a guess from the general direction he was facing.

It was curious, really. The salute earlier had been picture-perfect Academy, of the sort only displayed by those fresh from training or in the presence of truly dangerous superior officers. Now, however, there was a very non-military relaxed pose to the young man, only straight as he was because the chest armour forced a particular posture.

Piett had never had the misfortune of being in the presence of an Inquisitor before this one, but something didn't seem _quite_ right with the way he was comporting himself. Perhaps---

The Inquisitor twitched his head, then turned that masked stare on Piett, and he stiffened reflexively.

It wasn't at all like being pinned by Darth Vader's attention and masked stare, but there was a similarity in the _way_ he'd just suddenly seemed to turn his attention on him. He clamped down on all thoughts and turned them to more productive matters, setting the presence of the Inquisitor aside. For now, anyway, though it was doubtful he'd get any answers either way, even if he waited to think about this when there were no Inquisitor's on his Star Destroyer.

Ten minutes later, while he was looking over a few things with a junior officer, the Inquisitor suddenly tensed. Piett saw the strange little twitch and sudden frozen motion where the Inquisitor had intended to turn around but stopped himself reflected in the screen he was looking at. A moment later and the bridge doors swooped open to allow Darth Vader inside, and Piett swore silently, then clamped down on that too.

(Why hadn't he been _warned_!)

"Lord Vader." Straightening up, he bowed shortly, and while Vader stopped and turned to him, it was impossible to miss that he'd been striding towards the Inquisitor and not looking anywhere else. It was another curiosity Piett tucked away, uncertain whether it would ever get an answer and acknowledging that he probably also should not think about it.

The bridge was silent for several breaths as Darth Vader stood, haloed by the bridge lights and yet dimming them like he was casting a shadow that dragged a pall over the crew present.

"Captain Piett," Lord Vader said finally, his helmet inclining a shade; enough to let Piett relax mentally, just a little, though not enough to be noticed. But it was a reassurance (though of course not meant as one) he'd become familiar with that was acknowledgement of a task fulfilled and done so well. "You will rendezvous with the rest of Death Squadron over Sluis Van and await further orders. We are going to remain at Sluis Van longer than anticipated, due to the repairs that will be necessary." A curl of dark displeasure coloured Vader's thundering baritone for a brief moment before it was squashed, and Piett nodded.

"As you command, Lord Vader," he murmured, then watched the commander of the Death Squadron turn away, cloak flaring out from his legs at the movement.

"Come."

It was clear he hadn't been talking to anyone but the Inquisitor when the young man started slightly and then followed Vader off the bridge. Piett knew it was merely his imagination the way there seemed to go a collective, if very minute, slump through the whole bridge crew before they straightened back up and returned to work when the doors closed behind Darth Vader and his tail.

He frowned and wondered, imagination or not, if he would need to plan some exercises of his own. While he doubted Lord Vader would return to the _Accuser_ any time soon, regardless of if the Star Destroyer became part of Death Squadron or not, the crew wouldn't last long if they reacted this openly to Vader. There was also the matter of his own pride in his crew.

He would look into it.


	28. War Games X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Vader about to leave for the _Devastator_ , and there might be a... tiny... breakthrough.

He'd been so distracted since the rebels escaped to hyperspace and Vader hadn't said anything at all since ordering him to get to the _Accuser_ , that Luke was honestly and utterly surprised when he felt Vader right outside the bridge. Staring at the back of the cloak where it flared out behind his father as he walked, Luke didn't even need to _try_ to feel Vader's presence in the Force.

It was a tightly reined-in fury, ice and something that grasped darkly at the air around them, flickering closer to him with every other step and then sharply yanked back.

It made Luke feel a little wary, but not really _afraid_ , though he couldn't exactly put his finger on why, at the moment.

If he actually thought about it, though, maybe it had to do with Vader's reaction earlier, when Luke had been able to tie it to his aunt and uncle's behaviour sometimes. If that was it, it meant that this was not _at him_ , but _for him_. Not that he needed to be protected, but... the whole thing _had_ been rather terrifying, if exciting, and the idea that his father was upset about it was, for the moment, nice.

Luke resolutely didn't think about any number of instances while growing up where he'd wanted, after being yelled at or getting crushing hugs, depending on (sometimes both), his father to be there. His mother had featured less often, a vague idea of a gentle hand on his head, mirroring Aunt Beru. But usually, since he had slightly more about him, it'd been his father he'd wanted to give both reprimand and concern.

And while he could hardly claim Darth Vader in any way corresponded with the image he'd had growing up, Luke thought wryly as he followed after said man, he also knew without a shadow of a doubt that what was striding in front of him hadn't _always_ been like this. Didn't mean his dreamed-up ideas were right either, but this wasn't all there was.

Luke pretended not to notice the heavy stare on him while they were in any of the three different turbolifts they had to take. Pretended he didn't notice his father having him walk out of each in front of him, even if Vader, by the necessity of appearance, ended up walking in front of him shortly after that every time.

The hangar they came to wasn't the one he expected, however, because the only thing that was in here was a Lambda shuttle, and not his or Vader's TIE. Frowning, he still followed Vader up the ramp, but then opened his mouth.

"The co-pilot's chair. Now."

Snapping his mouth shut, Luke blinked, then rallied.

"But what about---"

"Your TIE will be transferred back to the _Devastator_ later. We are going back _now_." Vader's tone brooked no argument, but Luke found himself taking a breath _anyway_. Wasn't sure whether it was to say something about what he _thought_ (he wasn't sure) he'd done while on the bridge. Or if it was about what had happened during the fight, or... what.

"But..." he trailed off, still not certain what it was he wanted to say, but Vader whirled around, feeling like a living thunderstorm across the... connection, he was now aware that they shared, and Luke tensed.

"Luke---"

The gloved hand suddenly on his shoulder squeezed tight enough Luke was sure there'd be bruises later, but he didn't say anything. Swallowed down the wince and tilted his head up, waiting. The seconds stretched, silent, because now that his father had gotten _this_ far, the darkly glowing nova suspended, hanging between the weight of his hand on Luke's shoulder and the lack of words.

Funnily enough, it seemed very similar to what Luke was feeling at the moment, and he smiled briefly, hidden behind the mask and the mirrored visor. Now he didn't feel so bad about not knowing what it was he wanted to say. So instead of worrying about that, he lifted his hand after another second, and, hesitantly, wrapped it around his father's wrist.

A minute tension tightened the grip on his shoulder even further, but again the seconds stretched out for a few breaths with nothing said or done.

"Go sit," Vader finally said, but didn't move. Luke nodded, then stepped back out of the now-slack grip on his shoulder, and went into the cockpit. Glancing at the pilot's chair, there was a very strong temptation to sit _there_ instead, but he sat down in the co-pilot's chair instead. He _could_ do as he was told, after all.

***  
His wrist was burning.

It was an utterly ridiculous - not to talk about _impossible_ \- notion, because while the cybernetic did register pressure, as it was important to know if there was anything close to it, Luke's touch had been light. It'd barely compressed the leather of his glove, to say nothing about the layers of the suit underneath, and the metal of the prosthetic did not register temperatures as neutral as body heat.

Which, either way, would've been soaked up by the leather of the glove _anyway_.

And yet it was there, a light, insistent burn, and the echoing memory of Luke's yell during the battle sung through his mind again. Darth Vader shuddered, locked it down, and then stormed into the cockpit, _achingly_ aware of the bright bonfire as well as the physical presence of his son in the chair beside his.


	29. War Games XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the chance to connect in the shuttle, Vader finally reacts more to the fact that he could've _lost Luke_. His son tries to be reassuring. It goes... so so.

Slumping against the polished, black curve of his father's meditation chamber, Luke yanked off the helmet, stared at it, and tossed it away with a grimace. He hadn't been allowed to so much as open it up, even on the flight to the _Devastator_ on the shuttle, and it felt _all too good_ to be able to get rid of it now.

"Pick that up," Vader rumbled as he swept past him, though he paused halfway through the room, still more than half a room away from the holocomm suite set up the next room over. Stopped, and became a blank wall in the Force. The helmet dropped back onto the floor with a clatter as Luke dropped his grip on it with the Force when he noticed that. He waited a few seconds, and then a minute, but the impression of Vader didn't change, and he said nothing. 

Frowning, Luke turned around and followed the curve of the meditation chamber to peer around it and at Vader's tense back.

More than a month since first stepping foot onto the _Devastator_ , and this was the first time Vader had simply become... blank, like that. It was, frankly, more unsettling than the tightly-leashed rage, because he didn't know what it meant.

It didn't _scare him_ , though, strangely enough.

"... Father?"

If anything, the tension in Vader's frame that set the bottom of the cloak swaying slightly only _heightened_ with that. Luke's frown deepened. 

Did he, or did he _not_ want him to acknowledge their relationship? He'd claimed he was his father, claimed Luke as his son, almost immediately when he got on board the _Devastator_ , had repeated it more than once and most notably in response to his mental... cry, during the battle, but now... Things had been so rushed in the few minutes he'd still been out in the TIE that he couldn't remember what Vader's reaction had been when he'd called out to him during the attack, and while there'd been that... thing on the shuttle, up until this point he'd tried to not think about who Vader was, unwilling to really accept it.

Somehow, he'd gotten past that point, though, and now... well, he didn't know. 

Vader was still like an opaque transparisteel wall when Luke actually made an effort to try to read him, and tentatively brushing against his father's presence along the connection he hadn't even noticed until he'd accidentally used it himself and his father had responded in kind (wasn't sure what he thought about it, to be honest) earned Luke what he could only describe as a mental push away.

And then, almost immediately, his father reached again, a quick, penetrating flick of attention before he retreated back behind the blank wall. A wall, Luke now realised the longer he was exposed to this strange change in Vader's usually livid and frozen Force presence, that had cracks in it. Poking at it, it trembled, but remained.

Taking a breath, Luke crossed his arms over his chest, curling his nose at the reminder he was still wearing the Inquisitor outfit as the armour was solid under his arms, and then focused back on his father.

"I wasn't out there more than five minutes, you know," he said, thinking he understood what the issue was since he'd recognised the protectiveness during the battle. That left him torn between exasperation - five minutes wasn't _long_ \- and incredulity when he realised it actually hadn't been longer than five minutes. While out there, shooting past the lasers and the sudden appearance of foreign, elegant fighters, it'd felt much longer.

"Inexperienced fighter pilots have a tendency to perish in less than 30 seconds, young one," Vader said, slow, low and quietly deadly. The tension in the man's shoulders was in his voice as well, and Luke knew he'd hit right.

"I _know_. Black 9 told me. And the longer you _don't_ die in combat, the more likely it is you'll survive!" Which he _had_ , and Luke was utterly convinced he could've been in the whole fight - not that he necessarily (at all) wanted to, since those had clearly been rebels, but that wasn't the point. Vader whirled around, the full weight of the masked stare falling on him, and Luke snapped his mouth shut.

"The Force is truly with you, young Skywalker, but that does not make you any less inexperienced flying a TIE fighter in combat."

Staring incredulously at his father for the use of 'young Skywalker', Luke shook his head. What was that, some weird coping mechanism for realising the son he'd newly gotten back could've died?

Oh. Well.

Maybe?

Luke decided not to examine that thought too closely for the moment, the connection and acceptance - even with the proof of protectiveness and the touch in the shuttle - too new.

"Look, I'm _fine_! I didn't get a scratch flying to the _Accuser_ and you had Captain Piett keep it back from the fight, so there's _nothing to worry about_!"

The blank wall shattered, causing the metal in the deck underneath them to tremble and leaving a familiar black sun going supernova as Darth Vader stared down at him before he stalked over to Luke, one finger raised.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, Luke---"

"I'm _fine_ , Father," Luke said, interrupting him with more boldness than he actually felt. Almost thought to push it when there was no reaction to his interruption by reaching out and laying his hand on his father's gloved one, but... no. He wasn't sure he wanted to do that again, so soon. He wasn't sure what would happen, this wasn't the shuttle, and despite that he'd finally been able to make the leap and call this darkly cast shadow of Anakin Skywalker his father out loud, didn't mean it wasn't still Darth Vader.

The outstretched hand fell to rest on the belt after another moment. His father said nothing, and the Force swirled with dark agitation which reached for Luke, almost wrapping around him before it was reined in. When the silence stretched even further, Luke cocked his head.

"I hope this doesn't mean you won't let me go flying with you again."

"Pick up the helmet, son," Vader said, gesturing at the doors that led towards Luke's rooms, and they obligingly opened. Luke grimaced but turned around and levitated the helmet to him, tucking it under an arm and looking up at his father. There was no comment about his use of the Force, though Luke sure had _expected_ one. "I also expect you to be able to tell me the political structure of the Empire in two days."

Luke froze, almost to the open doors and whirled around.

"You can't be _serious_!" Luke cried, then frowned, feeling something... "you don't even _like_ politics!" he continued, realising what it was he was picking up on in the Force, clear as day if only for a brief moment. He met the blank stare of the mask with a scowl, clutching harder the helmet he was carrying and feeling a sweaty itch tease his belly, covered by the armour plate and thus not easily scratched before it was removed.

"That does not mean you ought not to know it. Two days. I know you know how to use the computer. It's all there," Vader said and then stepped into the hyperbaric chamber, which had opened during the short confrontation.

Luke stared at the sphere as it closed.

He'd _seen_ the files and programs on the computer, of course. Read some, too. He'd just been ignoring them. Obviously he couldn't do that any longer... Or maybe he could, but he was sure Vader would come up with _something_ if he didn't produce some sort of acceptable answer to that demand.

Scowling, Luke turned around and stomped through the first set of doors, then the second ones - tried to ignore the way they very clearly locked behind him, like usual, and tossed the helmet across the room. It hit the viewport and bounced on the sofa, then down on the floor and rolled to a stop.

He wasn't sure why he felt so annoyed suddenly, but he knew one thing; he needed to get out of this dumb outfit.


	30. War Games XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader tries to figure out what he'll do to give Luke some extra security while with Death Squadron, and on the Rebel side of things, Biggs and Wedge get questioned about the _Accuser's_ behaviour.

The thundering echo of the fact that he could have _lost Luke_ refused to leave, and the memory of Luke's hand on his wrist did nothing to dispel it - if anything, it simply highlighted the very same fact, and he had no idea what to do with it. Sitting down at the desk and turning first the computer on and then bringing up a tactical display of Death Squadron, Vader stared at it without quite seeing it.

What he _wanted_ to do was to never open those doors again and not let Luke out of the rooms, but he realised that that was a singularly ill-advised idea. His castle was, further, still not the solution, not at this point. Not yet. Vader acknowledged with some annoyance that if he'd been slightly less ambitious and chosen another planet, this wouldn't have been a problem. 

Nothing to do about it, because he wasn't about to put Luke in the other place he had available - his master knew about _that_ fortress, after all. He'd been the one to 'gift' him the place in the first place, and while it was not a bad location, strong in the dark side as it was... Since his master could find it, it was even _more_ out of the question than his actual castle. There was one other option, but it wasn't a long-term solution - it was hardly even a _temporary_ solution, but it would be kept as an emergency back-up.

Stifling a sigh, feeling raw and open in a way he hadn't in more than a decade, Vader's gaze strayed back to the tactical display and his mind to the earlier battle. The amount of ships were now still five instead of six, as had been the plan. The _Conquest_ irrevocably lost, though not all of its crew, as a good number of the Star Destroyer's soldiers and pilots had been able to leave. They could be allocated elsewhere, either in Death Squadron or out among the greater fleet.

A small relief, and one which did not solve his current issue with his son in the least.

But... His gaze landed on the _Accuser_ , and Vader could admit to being... somewhat... relieved that this attack had come now, if it had to have come at all. He wouldn't have been ready to send Luke to any of the other ships on the short list to join Death Squadron, and with the _Conquest_ under attack during the whole battle, the only other option would've been to send him _through_ the heaviest of the dogfighting, back to the _Devastator_. Which wouldn't have been safe enough, since his flagship had come under attack next.

The _Accuser_ and its captain had, of course, absolutely no connection to Luke's arrival - the plan and his allowance to add a sixth ship to Death Squadron had been in planning for the last three months, but it _had_ turned out as well as he could've hoped. Compared to the other candidates, Captain Piett was the only one he was even remotely ready to even briefly leave Luke with.

... Which, perhaps, would be the solution to his current issue. An additional place of... relative safety here in Death Squadron was the next best thing he could arrange for a long-term solution until Luke could be moved to his castle.

Closing his eyes, Darth Vader listened (actually listened, since usually he simply filtered the repetitive sound out) to the noise of his own breathing through the respirator, and considered it further.

It would be a gamble, but it was one he was... more or less willing to take, given Captain Piett's 'credentials' - most of those unofficial in this case. Especially as his emergency solution would probably be far too much of a temptation for Luke this shortly into his stay. Darth Vader did not like gambling on his son's life and safety; having to reveal who Luke was to Mother Jade had been enough of one, despite her history. But insofar as he could be certain of anything when it came to Imperial officers he found even slightly tolerable to work with, Captain Piett was far more than just _tolerable_ , as previous incidents had proven.

This, then, would be pushing the Captain of the _Accuser_ further, and while it might break everything and reveal Luke to his master long before he was ready, Vader knew very well that Luke simply living on the _Devastator_ was risk enough to reveal his existence to his master. So he would take this step, and test the Captain's mettle further.

Vader hoped, for Captain Piett's sake as well as his son's, that he would prove equal to the test.

***  
Biggs cautiously stepped into the room with Wedge at his side, looking around. The only other people in the room, standing by the holo transceiver, were Commander Dreis and Captain Takkun. Dreis was frowning and tense, but didn't look _angry_ ; Captain Takkun's tentacles twitched every now and then, but she didn't look angry or upset.

Biggs glanced at Wedge, who twitched one shoulder in a shrug. They'd both been aware they might face some censure for their action of trying to assault one of the Star Destroyers present all on their own, but if this was it, it seemed... off.

"Antilles, Darklighter," Captain Takkun said, the tentacles covering her mouth twitching more strongly for a moment. Confusion, Biggs thought; not that he'd had more than a month with only limited interactions to figure out Quarren body-language, "we have someone who is very interested in your assessment of the Star Destroyer you attacked." She waved a hand and their commander activated the holo, causing what was clearly an encrypted fake image to spring up of a Human in a hooded cloak, torso and up.

"I heard you attempted to attack a Star Destroyer on your own and survived," the modulated voice could've been the being's own or another layer of security, Biggs couldn't tell, but there was some amusement in her voice, if nothing else. It made him relax, just slightly. "What I am interested in is your assessment of the Star Destroyer's behaviour compared to the other two involved in the battle."

He and Wedge exchanged another glance, then Wedge stepped forward a little, clearing his throat.

"Ah, well, you see, ma'am..." he hesitated and then shrugged, glancing to Biggs again, who nodded and stepped up himself.

"I noticed it drew back, and not just a little, from the battle, which neither the one we brought down, even when it was taking heavy damage, or the _Devastator_ did."

"I suggested we check it out, since, if it was doing that because it'd gotten damaged somehow in whatever test they were running before we came and crashed the party, we could maybe get _two_ Star Destroyers instead of one, and we'd already been separated from the majority of the squad, anyway," Wedge continued, taking up Biggs' thread of narration where he stopped.

"And did it seem damaged?" the agent said, a thread of tension in her voice now, which even the modulation couldn't hide.

"No," Wedge shook his head, frowning a little, "in fact, we barely avoided getting cooked when they got their turbolasers back, a little faster than the _Devastator_ did. No idea why they'd drawn back, and it stayed right where it was, even when it could've gotten closer to the battle again and probably done at least some damage to the _Pearl of Cala_ before we jumped."

The projection swayed back a little, but Biggs couldn't tell what she was getting out of this information at all - it was just a confusing and nonsensical anecdote, which seemed to stand further in contrast against the clearly quick acting of whoever had given the order to reset the weapons' systems for them to have come back as soon as they did.

"Thank you, both of you. Captain Takkun, Commander Dreis, thank you for letting me talk to Antilles and Darklighter." 

The transmission cut, and Biggs and Wedge were sent on their way.

"What'd you think _that_ was about?" Wedge asked as the door closed behind them. Biggs could only shrug in confusion.

"Beats me."

Still, the memory of Luke yelling at him to circle back that time they'd been racing, which meant he'd - both of them - had only just avoided being turned into smoking scrap because they managed to avoid the sudden shots from some hidden Tusken Raiders came back to him. Biggs shook his head, not understanding it at all, but hoping Luke was safe - the last he'd heard from Luke's aunt and uncle after he checked in with them, when Luke hadn't sent his usual message to complain about early Academy training, was that he'd been somewhere safe on Alderaan.

But that... well, that was months ago, and when he'd found out, he'd decided to leave the Academy and his upcoming position on the _Rand Ecliptic_ earlier than he'd otherwise planned.

Maybe he should see if he could make a comm to Beru and Owen again to check how Luke was doing now.


	31. War Games XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett is brought into the fold, to some confusion.

_Luke._

Startling, Luke looked up, then around. The room was empty, how had---

Oh, right.

_... Father?_ The hesitation was as much for the way he addressed Vader as it was for the method of conversation itself. It felt... strange, this thing. But also so supremely simple and _obvious_ it was a little scary. Something dark and warm glowed at the outer edges of his awareness, and Luke frowned, realising, just as it was locked down and withdrawn a little, that it was his father.

His father feeling... pleasure? at being addressed that way. So _why_ did he hide that from him? Frowning, Luke almost called his father out on that, then decided not to. Besides, he must have had some reason to call him, though why he didn't just come in here to say it, Luke didn't know.

_What?_ He finally and belatedly asked, and maybe it was a bit testy, but he'd been in here since yesterday, after their... not-quite-but-also-actually argument about him not really being in danger of dying. Just at risk of it.

_Come out here._

Staring at the viewport and the star- and gas-studded space beyond, unable to see Sluis Van from this angle the way the _Devastator_ was docked, Luke rolled his eyes.

_It's **locked** , you know. Or did you forget---_

_I have opened it, Luke. Come out here._ Annoyance turned Vader's voice short and clipped, and Luke tilted his head curiously, noting how much more emotion was visible in his father's (mental) voice, when he didn't have to use the vocoder. Darth Vader's voice might be impressive and imposing, but it didn't allow for much else other than that, and suddenly, Luke wondered what his father would sound without it.

Exactly like he sounded in this mental communication? Different, due to whatever had caused him to _need_ that mask? He wondered if his father would actually ever tell him what had led to it being nece---

_Young one._

"Oops," Luke nearly yelped at the exasperated thunder in his head, then grinned and put his datapad down on the couch and, a bit warily, crossed the room - the door opened on his approach and he knew that was just temporary, but _stars_ that felt nice. Quickly crossing the empty office beyond, Luke didn't pay much attention as he stepped into the main room, just looked to Vader where he stood in front of the hyperbaric chamber.

"So what did you--- Captain Piett?!" Taking a startled step back, Luke glanced between his father and the captain, who was now frowning slightly. Said expression had deepened into a pinched quality as he'd seen Luke - the man was, Luke could tell, worried. That, if nothing else, made him straighten back up and step forward, casting a quick frown up at his father and then back to the captain.

"Um, hello again, Captain Piett," he said with a lopsided smile and watched a faint shiver of confusion settle on Piett's face before it disappeared in comprehension. And then he was back to looking worried again.

"Ah... the Inquisitor," Piett murmured and gave a quick, perfunctorily bow. Luke grimaced and shook his head.

"I'm not---"

"Captain Piett," Vader said, interrupting Luke even as he gestured him closer and laid a hand on Luke's shoulder when he came close enough. Luke stilled, honestly surprised. This was the second time (first, if you didn't count the moment in the shuttle back to the _Devastator_ after he came and picked him up from the _Accuser_ ) Vader had touched him, willingly and not in the aim of dragging him somewhere. "This is my son, Luke Skywalker."

If anything, Piett's expression pinched further after a brief, startled widening of his eyes, mouth twitching, and his muted alarm in the Force, before it was smoothed over, was sharp. Luke was surprised and impressed the man had as good control over his emotions and expressions as he did, though why he was alarmed at finding this out was harder to guess.

"... why are you telling him? I thought no one was supposed to know?" Luke frowned, glancing up at Vader and rolling his eyes when his father's hand tightened at the mention that no one was supposed to know. Then Vader nodded sharply.

"No one else. If I am not available, son, you can, and should, go to Captain Piett," Vader said quietly - or as quietly as he was capable of - then turned his masked gaze to the captain, who stiffened sharply. "As of now, you are the only other individual who knows who the boy is, Captain Piett. I expect you to treat this knowledge with discretion." Vader's voice had gone soft, nearly sibilant. 

The threat was obvious, and Piett's nod rather... twitchy.

"Yes, my lord."

Luke huffed.

"Look, I think he gets it _without_ you threatening him, _Father_." Luke wasn't sure, exactly, why he said it with Piett there to hear. Almost regretted it, because now _someone else had heard_. 

Even if Piett had just been told of their exact relationship and he'd just... strengthened said revelation, not revealed anything himself. But the way Vader's hand tightened on his shoulder again and Piett blinked and seemed caught between relaxing his ramrod-straight pose a little and straightening further made it worth it.

"Stating facts is not threatening, young one. Welcome to Death Squadron, Captain. Dismissed."

Piett nodded and left, though Luke rather wished he'd stayed a little longer... Though, maybe he should talk to Piett _without_ his father present. When the door had closed behind the captain of the _Accuser_ , and both Vader and Luke pretended they couldn't feel the slight surge of tense relief from Piett, Luke turned to Vader.

"So... why does _he_ get to know?"

The hand on his shoulder was removed as his father clasped his hands behind his back instead, looking down at him for several moments before he said anything. Luke, starting to actually get used to these delays, merely waited.

"Captain Piett is, compared to many others, competent. He is also... relatively trustworthy."

'Relatively trustworthy'. Luke mouthed those words silently and almost shook his head in disbelief. Considering his father's paranoia so far, that was rather glowing praise... not to talk about the sort of trust Vader was actually putting in Piett by not just telling him but also making Piett responsible for him if Vader wasn't available.

"So what happened?" Because clearly something _had happened_ , at some point, to lead to this. Even if Piett clearly wasn't comfortable with the attention, but then, _who would be_?

"That... is a long story."

Luke wasn't sure whether that was reluctance, discomfort, or simply his father being... what, unused to attempts at proper conversation? Tilting his head, Luke waited. Nothing seemed to be forthcoming, but Vader's hands left his sides to rest at his belt. Weighing his options, Luke blew out a sharp breath.

"Just tell me how you _met_?" Surely _that_ wasn't too much to ask. It couldn't be as dangerous ground as asking about further in the past, or his mother, right?

The helmet tilted, light sliding off the polished durasteel, and Luke frowned, starting to feel very, very frustrated.

"Axxila had recently joined the Empire," Vader said, suddenly enough Luke wasn't sure his father was actually _responding to his question_ or just introducing a new topic, "that sector always suffered difficulties with pirates, though diminishing in the last few years after the end of the Clone Wars. We received additional intelligence about rebel cells and suspected Jedi in the area and a focused mission was brought to bear."

His father paused again, but this time Luke could tell he was going to continue - whatever the pause actually was for, it wasn't a refusal to finish what he had started, or Vader remembering something particularly upsetting. In fact, he was now starting to relax again, the great cold sun withdrawing a little and stopped being quite as overbearing as before.

"It took months, but Axxila was back in proper order. I believe Governor Tarkin later availed himself of Captain Piett's service due to that incident," Vader said, his voice going slightly dry and the Force tinged with vague... annoyance? when he mentioned Tarkin. Luke squinted and tried to remember - Grand Moff Tarkin? Not that that told him much, and he couldn't summon an image of the man either.

"And now you're putting his Star Destroyer in your fleet," Luke said, squinting up at his father. That could _hardly_ be all there was to this.

"Competence and intelligence are qualities sorely lacking in many parts of Imperial command, Luke," Vader said, turning away from him sharply, "you haven't eaten."

Now, _that_ was definitely a topic change, and Luke almost groaned - and then admitted that it was true. He _had_ gotten distracted from lunch. So he just rolled his eyes.

"I guess not, no."


	32. War Games XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett deals with the bombshell he's just been made aware of, and the responsibility that comes with it.

Piett allowed himself no thought deeper than the tasks he needed to do to integrate the _Accuser_ into Death Squadron until the door to his quarters closed behind him. He leaned back against it for a brief, weak-legged moment, then strode over to the desk, checked coverage on the bridge and if anything pressing had come up, _then_ sank down in the chair.

Elbows on the desk, he allowed himself a moment to rest his face in his hands, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

Coloured lights burst against the darkness behind his eyelids.

A son.

Darth Vader had a son. A secret son, if the implications were true, because why otherwise hide the boy behind the anonymity of an Inquisitor's uniform and mask? Why not have him announced to the Galaxy at large, tucked safely away in the Imperial Palace? But no, nothing so simple, for whatever, probably political, reason. 

Further, a secret son _he_ had now been entrusted not just with the _knowledge_ of, but with his _safety_ whenever Lord Vader wasn't available.

The temptation to get a drink was bone deep, but there was not enough spirits stored on the entirety of the _Accuser_ for the amount he needed to offset not just this knowledge, but new responsibility. Thus the amount was far more than he could allow himself on duty.

Letting out a slow sigh, Piett pushed away from the desk and slumped back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose.

If he'd known this would be the price to pay to keep the captaincy he'd been given and allowed to keep after his last service with Lord Vader, perhaps he would have reconsidered, resigned, and returned to Axxila...

Except no.

While he carried some healthy respect and wariness for his new commanding officer, he was not superstitious enough to believe that _this_ was the payback for his slightly unconventional commission for captaincy of the _Accuser_. It was not as if it was his fault the former captain had been killed - he had been nowhere near the man. It was, actually, the man's own fault... and the rebels they'd encountered. Piett had his own assessment of the whole thing, of course, and would bet credits, if asked, that if the rebels hadn't killed the captain, Lord Vader would have, for the incompetence that got the captain killed.

Well, that was neither here nor there. The point to take away from that and, perhaps, his first service under Darth Vader, was that Lord Vader apparently saw him as... marginally competent and trustworthy enough to be brought into this knowledge.

Pleasure, fear, and cold awareness rushed through him at once.

Lord Vader was keeping secrets, if Luke Skywalker was anything to go by. Keeping secrets from the Emperor himself, presumably.

He'd been entrusted with at least one (arguably the biggest one) of these secrets. It was, really, a death sentence in a way, one that might only be alleviated by going to the Emperor and revealing what he knew. But Emperor Palpatine was far from here, was the source of some questionable military and security decisions, and Piett...

Found he had no desire to take that course of action, regardless of the future possibility that such an action _might_ save his life. It might as well damn him long before it became relevant, too, if Lord Vader found out he'd gone to the Emperor.

A _son_.

Muffling a groan behind his hands and willing the headache to retreat, Firmus was _almost_ grateful when the desk comlink started to blink, demanding his attention. A distraction was exactly what he needed, and any panicked query for assistance from his crew would be far simpler than the secret he now carried and had to keep safe.


	33. Accuser Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader is forced to take a leap of faith.

The _Devastator_ had limped back to Sluis Van - luckily no damage had been close to the engines or the hyperdrive, so at least that had been easily achieved - and Vader partitioned his time between overseeing the repairs, rearranging the Death Squadron to fit the _Accuser_ into the _Conquest_ 's spot, and Luke.

He didn't particularly _look forward_ to interrogating his son about the readings he'd assigned him, but the boy _did_ need to know it, particularly for later. So no matter what either of them thought about politics in particular or general, he would do it. Curiously, there'd been a sense of nearly vibrating expectation from Luke growing since yesterday, and Vader was rather sure it couldn't have anything to do with Imperial politics or the structure of the government, but he couldn't at all figure out what else it was for.

Well, he would... attempt to ask, after the more unpleasant parts of the upcoming conversation was over and done with. Luke might get to telling him before he had the chance to ask, which would be simpler, but if the boy _didn't_ he wasn't going to suffer through much more of this barely held back anxiety.

With a sigh, Darth Vader mentally consigned himself to talking politics and the structure of Imperial government for the next half hour, at least, as the doors to his quarters opened, and steeled himself. But he'd barely crossed half-way to the door that led to the rarely-used (though more lately) office that lead to Luke's rooms when a very familiar chime echoed through the room.

Freezing, Vader frowned.

What could he _possibly_ \---

It didn't matter. 

The chime sounded again, strident and unpleasant despite the melodic sound, and Vader pushed all thoughts of his son out of his head. He pulled the details of the repairs to the _Devastator_ close instead; the details of Death Squadron; of the more critical campaigns other fleets were conducting at the moment, and turned on his heel, striding over to the holo pad on the floor that was connected to the comm suite and sank to his feet, one knee on the hard, polished surface of the pad.

"My Master."

Emperor Palpatine's holographic bust swelled up large, shimmering blue over the pasty white and black - but nothing could hide the sulphuric yellow of his eyes. At least there was a normal, faintly sneering and perfectly expected smile on his master's face. It wasn't _truly_ necessarily a sign of nothing being wrong, but Vader relaxed cautiously upon seeing it.

"Rise, old friend," his master said, the slight condescension for a moment retreating, the smile edging faintly into something a little more... neutral, if not genuine, "Death Squadron will be out of commission for another three weeks until repairs are done, I believe you said?"

He had told his master this yesterday, but he nodded in confirmation, said nothing else, and kept all thoughts carefully blank.

"Excellent. I have a mission for you, Lord Vader. It should not take you more than a week or two at the most, making better use of such an irritating downtime for you," his master's smile turned into something a bit more sharp, amused and indulgent, and while it was now grating to be able to see it, he couldn't disagree. If he hadn't had... if he did not have more than simply the Death Squadron and the Fleet to occupy him, this waste of time that was the window of inaction that the _Devastator_ 's repairs had forced on him would have been exceedingly frustrating.

"As you wish, my Master," he said instead, voice rumbling through the room, and was hard pressed not to think of any number of other things that he suddenly was both relieved he had already solved, frustrated that it would already be necessary to use them, and fearing leaving. 

Focused, instead, on his master and what he was saying.

***  
Peering out the viewport, the only thing Luke could see from this angle was the docking ring the _Devastator_ was attached to. It was a bit disappointing, and Luke thought, not for the first time, that he'd like the chance to actually get to see what Sluis Van looked like from the surface. He doubted Vader would agree to something like _that_ , though, even if he might be able to convince his father he wouldn't run away at the first opportunity.

Which was... Luke was aware he should. Really, he was. But he also wanted...

Sighing, he crossed his arms and leaned against the transparisteel, frowning down at the glitter of reflected sunlight on the docking ring. Remembered all too well the hand on his shoulder - mostly the moment in the shuttle, but when Vader had revealed who he was to Captain Piett as well. Remembered, also, the worry during the battle, and while he'd decided he would ask Vader today, after this so very exciting civics lesson, about contacting his aunt and uncle and maybe the Naberries as well, he wanted to try to give this more of a chance.

He wasn't sure what he could even _do_ , here, but with the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder had come the vaguest thought that maybe he could... in some way... change things. He'd have to think more about _that_ , though, because he wasn't sure what that would be or how. But he supposed there was time enough for that, really.

The doors opened, and Luke pushed away from the viewport, his building anticipation, anxiety and even happiness all reforming into a frown as he caught the stiff set of Vader's shoulders underneath the heavy armour.

"Father..?"

Briefly, Luke felt a confused, slightly defensive thrill at saying that word, something which hadn't yet dissipated since the first time he'd acknowledged it aloud. The vocoder let out a static rush of air, and Vader turned to him, staring down silently for a moment or two. 

The Force was cold, but tightly reined in, swirling ponderously around his father.

"You will have the time to make a proper report of your homework, Luke," Vader said, and briefly the clear irritation retreated for something that seemed like vague sardonic amusement, "which of course means I will expect a longer and more detailed account."

Blinking, both in confusion and annoyance, Luke opened his mouth to either protest or ask _why_ , but his father quickly continued.

"My master has seen fit to fill my idle time with a mission. You will spend that time on the _Accuser_ and under the supervision of Captain Piett. In the left hand part of the closet there ought to be a standard uniform. Wear it under your Inquisitor armour and come with me."

"... _what_?" Luke stared, flabbergasted and _annoyed_ , but Vader merely stared silently, clearly waiting. With a sigh, Luke shook his head - he hadn't really expected to be left in here for the length of the mission, now that he thought about it, no matter how long the mission might be, since it clearly meant Vader was leaving the system. Lucky for his father, then, that Captain Piett was not just in Death Squadron now, but had been brought into the secret.

But the thought that his hypothetical promise that he not escape would probably not be enough for his father, as well as the clipped commands, grated. Of course, with Vader not present, someone, even a _droid_ would actually have to see him (for his food, if nothing else, since Vader always had it leaving the trays in the office outside), and Luke didn't fancy wearing the Inquisitor uniform and helmet _all the time_.

Therefore, he was following his father out of the quarters fifteen minutes later, the helmet as usual closed over his face, the training saber gently thumping against his hip with every step, and a datapad tucked under one arm. The whole thing was a bit warmer and bulkier with the uniform underneath, enough so that Luke hoped this wouldn't last too long.

Walking up the ramp of the shuttle Vader would apparently take and wondering why he was wearing the crew uniform underneath at all if Vader was going to fly him over to the _Accuser_ , Luke almost walked into his father when he suddenly stopped when they were out of view from the deck outside.

"There is a personnel transport in the next hangar over, one of the last distributing crew out from the _Conquest_ ," Vader said, his shoulders stiff again and the Force reaching darkly for him, revealing his father's unwillingness to go through with what Luke was suddenly figuring out was the method of how he'd get over to the _Accuser_. "Leave the Inquisitor armour here and proceed to it, then wait outside the _Accuser_ 's bridge until Captain Piett can escort you to your temporary quarters."

Luke stared, opened his mouth, closed it again. 

Never mind asking his father for a chance to see Sluis Van from the surface - the amount of (reluctant, _oh-so-reluctant_ ) trust that was being put in him here was rather... staggering. It might just have been setting him loose unsupervised from one Star Destroyer to another, but still. 

Because Vader didn't have much of a choice, one way or another, because Luke realised then that an unknown Inquisitor trailing after Darth Vader on one of the missions given to him by the Emperor would probably draw too much attention from _someone_ , which could, and probably _would_ find its way back to the Emperor.

Something they wanted to avoid.

"Father, I..." He reached out just as Vader turned around, which meant he accidentally smacked his hand into Vader's arm - Luke used that to briefly brush his fingers against the leather and then grip the edge of the cloak for a moment, then let go. Looking up, he caught the slight tilt to the helmet that meant Vader had noticed.

The Force was heavy and dark - but _warm_ \- around them now, and Luke was unsure whether he would've been able to leave the shuttle right at this moment if he actually tried to leave.

" _Behave_ , young one. I will find out if you haven't," Vader ground out, and suddenly there was a very heavy hand on his shoulder, nearly bruising in its grip.

"I---"

"Ask me when I am back, Luke," Vader said, the grip on his shoulder slackening, "you will have it." Then his father froze, as if he realised what he'd just said, what he'd just _promised_ , and Luke tried but failed to muffle his chuckles. 

This felt awkward and like he'd just stepped out into a sandstorm expecting clear skies after the whole... _thing_ with the attack on the war game between the _Accuser_ and Death Squadron, with their... development. Awkward and too small and too big at the same time.

So Luke took a breath, nodded, and stepped back. Peeling off the armour pieces and clothes that belonged to his Inquisitor disguise, he left a neat, if now somewhat rumpled, black uniform jumpsuit underneath. He pulled the cap out of a pocket, shook it out and yanked it low over his face.

"What do you think?" Luke said, trying for levity. His father stared for a moment, then shook his helm.

"It is about the only crew position you can safely hide behind without being noticed. Now go."

Huffing at the jab about his height and possibly that he didn't look his age, Luke eyed his father's back briefly and then shrugged. Casting one last glance over his shoulder at the bottom of the ramp, Luke turned back and bent over the unlit datapad, pretending to be engrossed in it as he walked to the next hangar over, feeling rather... lost. 

It was so very _strange_ to be walking down the corridors as if he belonged, the few other crew he met not giving him so much as a second glance. He could leave. Or well, he could disappear in here, _not_ take the transport over to the _Accuser_ , and...

No. For one, his father was still a darkly glowing and very much _attentive_ sun in the hangar he'd left him in, and for another... He wanted to try this.

So Luke walked into the hangar and ran over to the shuttle when the commander there yelled at him that he was late, and sat down hurriedly in one of the last empty seats, clutching the datapad and pretending hard that he _belonged here_.

No one gave him a single glance.


	34. Accuser Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett answers a question and thus clears up (some) of Luke's curiosity where it concerns the captain of the Accuser and Darth Vader.

His guest was not what he had expected.

Not from the initial meeting during the attack, not from the brief exchange in Lord Vader's quarters. Luke Skywalker was _not_ what he would have imagined a son of _Darth Vader_ to be. 

Though, perhaps, if he allowed himself the thought, from what he'd seen on the holonet during the Clone Wars, if his memories were anything to go by, Luke Skywalker was definitely _Anakin Skywalker's_ son.

This was not a thought he would be voicing. It was probably one he shouldn't even be _thinking_ , all things considered.

Not even to the young man himself, because Piett would not bet on such information _not_ coming back to Lord Vader. He did not think the man would appreciate such a comparison, nor with how completely he had remade himself (though, now that he was... aware... there were some obvious similarities).

The boy was pleasant, inquisitive, something of a daydreamer if he had nothing interesting to occupy him and almost terrifyingly focused when he _did_.

"Captain Piett?"

Such as now, suddenly, for some reason. Firmus looked up from his plate to give Skywalker a slight, inquisitive tilt of his head, both curious and very much wary of what he might ask. They had had at least one conversation about the Empire's government - 'for homework' the young man had said, and while he didn't doubt it, he would rather not have such a conversation again. The boy was both clever and horribly naïve, and very much not accepting of some of the realities of politics (even if he didn't like or agree with them himself).

"How come my father trusts you?" Curiosity burned in Skywalker's voice and eyes, and he shifted slightly in his seat. Of course he would ask _that_. Not that he could, actually, blame the boy, because surely Skywalker had noticed that Vader did not trust easily, and would trust even _less_ when it came to something that was obviously as important to him as his son was.

And while some of it wasn't really his to tell, the rest he could see no harm in mentioning.

"I would not presume to know why Lord Vader has entrusted me with..." Piett paused, frowning, though there was a shade of reluctant amusement in his eyes as he continued, "with the knowledge of your existence, Skywalker. But, hm."

Luke frowned, pushing the remaining food on his plate around, hoping he _would_ get _something_ that would explain things. Not that it probably was vital to know, but it was so _obvious_ that he couldn't help but want to know what the story was. Captain Piett took a bite of the nerf medallion on his plate and turned his head to look out the small viewport the table was placed by.

"A few years ago, while Tarhun Vel was the captain, we answered a call for reinforcements to a nearby system," Piett pursed his lips in thought, a frown hovering over his expression, but Luke didn't know the captain well enough yet to be able to pinpoint the reason for it. Though, Piett usually looked worried or frowned, so maybe it was nothing, simply part of his base expression. Luke had to smother a grin at the thought. 

"The group of rebels we'd been called in against were apparently led by a rogue Jedi," Piett said, not glancing at him, and Luke was rather relieved about that, because there was no way to hide the way he perked up, "the group as a whole was rather... vicious. And underhanded. They infiltrated all imperial ships present during the battle. Captain Vel did not notice a slip I caught shortly after they'd been given clearance to dock in one of our hangars, and preferred not to listen when I attempted to bring it up, more focused on the battle going on outside."

Understanding and annoyance bled through the otherwise bland, nearly _tired_ tone now, and Luke leaned forward a little, interested and understanding both. Of course multitasking wasn't easy, but a captain would need to be able to be flexible. And if this Captain Vel had taken half a minute to listen, that particular infiltration would probably have been stopped shortly out of the hangar.

"They were halfway to the reactor core for the engines before the Captain allocated forces to stop them, and by then Lord Vader was already on board - apparently the rogue Jedi was with the group on our ship," pausing, Piett lay his cutlery precisely on the plate, frowning out the viewport again, down at the bare sliver of crescent curve that could be seen of Sluis Van from their orbit. 

"The group had separated. I took a small force to intercept the ones that had broken off, and then took it with me towards the reactors. We arrived in time to divert most of the group while Lord Vader fought the rogue Jedi... a Mirialan, if I remember right, though she quickly retreated after losing an arm to Lord Vader... and then dispatching Captain Vel on her way out, who had come to oversee the last stages of the confrontation." Piett shook his head, voice going flat and dry - it was obvious what he thought about _that_ , and Luke wondered if it was because the captain hadn't been good in a fight and should just have stayed up on the bridge, or if it was the belated intention to insert himself in the action and probably look better than he was.

"I assisted Lord Vader in the aftermath of that confrontation, as he had not come out of it... unscathed," Piett said slowly, clearly leaving the exact nature of 'not unscathed' out of this, and while Luke opened his mouth, he closed it again without saying anything. He could accept that, because it was clear Captain Piett wouldn't tell him.

"Lord Vader gave me command of the _Accuser_ for the duration of the campaign to route the rebels out of that system, and afterwards I was given proper commission. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Skywalker?"

Luke looked up into faintly amused eyes with an otherwise politely inquiring expression and nodded, having to swallow the question of what the injuries had been. Because from all that it didn't seem obvious why his father would trust Piett, even if he clearly was observant and knew when to act - so it must have been something with helping Vader with his injuries.

But that, Luke could easily see, wasn't something that was _Piett's_ story to tell.

"Partly," he said instead and grinned, the smile widening at Piett's quiet snort at his response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whereas the history Vader mentioned was cobbled together mostly with purely current canon and Legends information, what is included here is basically Space Race-specific AU background to account for/extrapolate on when Piett saw Vader without his helmet, as the way he reacted in ESB when he saw him such always read to me that he _has_ done so.


	35. Accuser Interlude III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett assists Luke with some distraction and Luke shows off a little (even if he doesn't think about it or do it intentionally).

Several items that he'd scavenged from the rooms available to him floating around him, Luke wished Vader would've let him keep the Inquisitor lightsaber. Sure, it couldn't do any damage _at all_ , as it was a practice saber but he could still have used it. Anything, really. He was feeling more locked up than usual which... well, it was certainly the truth. He had both less space available and less things to do, and Luke had, in the last two weeks, developed a reluctant gratefulness for his usual rooms and the duelling room he also had access to.

Nothing such here on the _Accuser_ , understandably, but it didn't really help him to _accept it_. He didn't even have access to the droid parts that were still in his rooms so he could finish the MSE droid he'd been building, and it was so close to completion too...

He refocused his attention when he felt his array wobble (two datapads, a cracked and unusable code cylinder, the cap of the uniform he'd come to the _Accuser_ in, a pillow), catching them before anything fell to the floor. The door swishing open almost made him lose control over the whole thing _again_ , but everything remained in the air as he opened his eyes to look up at Captain Piett.

"Something the matter?" Piett said, stiffening where he stood just inside the door, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening. Tilting his head, Luke looked up at the man and slowly shook his head.

"... no? Why would it be? I'm just... training." He sighed, glancing around the items around him and briefly squinted in thought, sending one of the datapads weaving in and out between the other four items. "Since I had to leave the training lightsaber with the rest of the Inquisitor disguise, and the two _real_ ones I use on the _Devastator_ are in the duelling room there..."

A shrug, and he looked back to Piett to catch him twitching an eyebrow slightly higher on his forehead, his pinched expression briefly pulled into something a bit more relaxed, if still arch. Not quite confused, and, maybe somewhat interested.

"I apologise," Piett said, leaving Luke blinking and almost dropping the datapad he'd been flying around its obstacle course, "I believe this is the first time I've seen this applied in a... non-combat situation."

Luke stared. Thought of his father, and how he probably used the Force and what Piett might have seen of it from that.

Oh.

"It's okay," Luke grinned, shaking his head, "and I _could've_ shown you something more impressive and combat-oriented if I had access to _any_ of my lightsabers, but I don't." A thought which left him frustrated again, slumping a little where he sat. The array was kept in the air even as Luke groaned and scrubbed his face, then ran his hands through his hair.

He completely missed the faintly amused expression on Piett's face, as a consequence. An amused expression which slowly slid over to looking somewhat thoughtful, and then settled on intrigued after another moment. It was a situation that he'd never been presented with before, and he was, admittedly... curious.

"Can you protect your troops, Skywalker?"

"Huh?" Confused, Luke watched Piett pull out a small service blaster and lower the intensity. It wasn't until he'd raised the blaster that Luke realised what Piett was intending to do. Gaze flashing around the five items, three of which were easily replaceable, one datapad that was a little less, and the last datapad on which he happened to have that dumb civics assignment Vader had given him.

Alarm shot through him a split second before Piett fired - the lowest setting might do nothing more than scorch the plastic a little, but it could still short-circuit the datapads, he was pretty sure - and Luke, completely without thinking, yanked _everything_ out of the path of the shot.

The shot barely smudged the wall it hit instead.

Luke turned to glare at the captain, but halfway there he had to sharply pull the pillow out of the way of another shot, and his annoyance and earlier alarm morphed into amusement. Meeting Captain Piett's cautiously amused and questioning gaze, Luke grinned and was rewarded with watching the man relax a shade.

"I won't tell him," Luke said, still grinning, and Piett cleared his throat, his brief smile in response much tighter.

"Appreciated."

And then he fired again, twice in quick succession, and Luke had to scramble to pull both datapads out of the way while keeping everything in the air around him. At least this would give him the chance to be _challenged_ a little, for a bit. Luke's last thought before he fell into a pattern of pulling the items out of the way of low-powered blaster shots was that he still hoped Vader wouldn't take too long in getting back; he couldn't rely on the poor captain to help distract him, after all.


	36. Lost and Found III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's stay on the _Accuser_ is over for now, but he and Vader aren't going back to the _Devastator_ immediately. So where, exactly, are they going, and will Vader keep his promise?

Luke could easily admit to being more than just _slightly_ disappointed when the short trek from the rooms to the bridge and then to following his father to the hangar ended in the shuttle. Almost a whole month on the _Accuser_ with even _less_ chance to move around than he had on the _Devastator_ had left him feeling cooped up more than usual, a sensation that only had gotten worse as the weeks passed.

Staring out the viewport from the co-pilot chair, Luke sighed and leaned his chin in the palm of one hand, his elbow resting on the armrest.

"Do we have to go back yet?" He knew the answer and heard the whine in his voice, enough that he winced - during the months in the Academy, he'd learned very quickly that that was for one not acceptable and two, learned to hear himself using that tone. Not that he really could help himself...

"We are not," Vader said, and Luke blinked, looking away from the starscape outside the viewport, which didn't, in fact, turn towards the gray bulk of the _Devastator_ \- rather, they turned _away_ from it. On the heels of Vader's proclamation, hyperspace enveloped them in its mottled blue nothing.

"What? Where are we going?" Luke refused to feel embarrassed about the trickle of excitement in his voice as he straightened up, glancing between hyperspace as if it could reveal where they were going, and Vader. His father was staring out the viewport himself, a solid, muted shadow with little lights blinking on his chest and around his waist.

"Nowhere important. I am..." he paused with something that was either hesitation or consideration, then tilted his helm, "I had planned to wait another few weeks, but considered that it might be better to do this now, as the time and opportunity is here."

Luke waited after Vader had finished speaking, but it seemed he wasn't going to say anything more for now, despite the fact that he hadn't actually explained anything. At all. Frowning and glancing sideways, Luke waited a few more minutes, but his father was now staring straight out the viewport, arms crossed over his chest, back straight.

All right, then.

Muffling a sigh, Luke decided that if he wasn't going to get an explanation for this, he'd tackle another thing - and since he'd been _promised_ , he would be pushing that for all it was worth.

"I wanted to ask..." trailing off to glance sideways at Vader again, he caught a minute tilt to the helmet. Well, at least he hadn't fallen asleep in there or something... "since you said I could have anything. I want to talk to my aunt and uncle and the Naberries. Or at least Ryoo and Sola." 

Luke had been looking out the viewport himself as he spoke, but he glanced back when he was done, and there was no way to miss the suddenly uncomfortably stiff pose Vader was sporting, even _sitting down_ as he was, and he was definitely clutching an arm with one of his hands where they were crossed over his chest.

One minute trickled by, and Vader's Force presence turned stiff and cold as well. Luke grimaced and dragged a hand through his hair.

"Father, _please_. I can't just let them think---"

"Before we return to the fleet," Vader said suddenly, the rumble of his voice startlingly loud in the humming of the cockpit. "You may talk to your... aunt and uncle. Messages only to however many of the Naberrie family you wish to talk to." Vader stood sharply and left the cockpit, his cloak sweeping out behind him in a flare of black.

Luke stared after him and wondered where he was even going to go; it wasn't as if a Lambda shuttle had that much space. But when the door closed behind his father, the air suddenly felt lighter, and Luke collapsed back against the seat with a thump, air escaping him harshly.

"... stars. Okay, that... went better than I thought it would," he muttered as he ran a hand over his face and then... smiled behind his palm.

That _had_ gone better than he thought it would, and he'd been given what he wanted, even if he, ideally, would've wanted to _talk_ to Ryoo and Sola as well. But he'd get to properly talk to his aunt and uncle. 

_That_ was the most important thing. Still smiling, Luke came to the hesitant conclusion that his father would probably have allowed him to talk to his aunt and uncle either way, promise or not.

It was a good feeling.


	37. Lost and Found IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father and son reach their destination, and said destination provokes a few pertinent questions about the past.
> 
> And then Luke flies a ship.

They landed on a barren moon at the bottom of one of the craters pockmarking its surface, and Luke understood even _less_ now. What was even supposed to be here? Looking up at Vader, he didn't get any real answers, however.

"The air will be thin, so breathe deeply and slowly. Do not allow yourself to panic. We don't have far to walk."

With a sigh, Luke acquiesced to follow his father without putting his foot down - all he could sense from the towering man was a quiet unease, not exactly anxiety, but neither was it _intent_ , malicious or not. 

Just... a pool of unease. Which then promptly got swallowed up by the usual burning cold of Vader's Force-presence, though Luke was rather sure that was simply reflex, not that his father had noticed him sensing even his most surface of emotions.

The atmosphere outside the ship _was_ thin; Luke had nothing to compare it to, but Vader's comment about 'not allowing himself to panic' didn't really help. It felt like he couldn't breathe in a way that had no specific cause... Trying to take his mind off of it, Luke stared at the slight swaying of cloth that was Vader's cloak, at the bare, cracked ground and the distant, pearlescent gray sky that looked like it'd disappear if you so much as _breathed_ on it.

Light winked off something when they rounded a tumble of huge boulders, and Luke brought his hand up, squinting against the glare - and promptly almost choked himself into stuttering surprise in the thin air, catching sight of the sleek, silver ship that was reflecting the light.

Elegant lines curved along the ship's angles, smooth, gleaming silver rising in a curve towards the cockpit (and possibly a few other cabins) on top of the rounded arrow shape. The whole thing was a study in elegance, and Luke stared at it, then to his father's back, utterly _incredulous_ that this was apparently a ship of _Vader's_.

 _Do not fall behind, Luke,_ Vader's mental voice floated over their connection, and Luke realised he'd stopped walking and hurried as much as he dared in the thin air to catch up. When they walked up the ramp, Luke caught Vader reaching out to touch the polished metal of the hull just before he went inside; a slow, lingering slide of just his fingertips. 

It seemed significant somehow, and Luke, reflexively and without thinking, ended up raising his right hand to the hidden lump underneath his clothes that was the Japor snippet he wore.

The second the ramp was closed and the atmosphere in the ship had been equalised, Luke took a deep, relieved breath and then caught up to his father, who hadn't stopped walking. If anything, the second they were aboard Vader's steps had both lengthened and quickened.

"What _is_ this ship? It's..." Luke couldn't quite find the words he wanted to describe it, and he saw Vader's shoulders stiffen minutely underneath the heavy armour and the cloak.

"A J-type 327 Nubian. Produced only on Naboo." There were _worlds_ of meaning in those words, and it took Luke only half a moment to catch the first possible ones. 

Naboo. That was...

"It's because of my mother, isn't it?" he said as he followed his father through the corridor, into a lift, then through another corridor, wishing he could actually _explore_. Vader seemed intent on getting somewhere as quickly as possible however, and was fairly storming through the ship. "You have this because that was her home planet."

Vader's stride halted for half a step and let a breath out of the respirator that was partially out of it's normal forced rhythm before he continued, even _faster_ than before. Luke groaned and jogged after Vader, annoyance and understanding both pooling in the pit of his stomach. They went through yet another door, and then his father suddenly stopped.

"As a Queen, her ship was a modified J-type 327 Nubian," Vader said quietly, the rumbling settling into the corners of the gleaming cockpit and the slightly worn upholstery of the seats. Light slid off controls and instruments that bore minimal signs of age, but clear signs of use. The ship might not _look_ old, but something told Luke that it actually was.

"So you... had one made." He looked around, for some reason feeling like smiling as his gaze wandered over the curves and lines, eyeing the pilot's seat and wishing he could have a chance to pilot it. Though, on the other hand it was... Luke wasn't sure, but it probably wasn't exactly healthy to make a replica of a ship your wife had flown in while she was alive.

"No." Vader passed him, the single word proclamation like a clarion call, pulling yet again on Luke's earlier impression of _worlds_ of meaning in what his father was saying. "This ship _was_ the one she used. It is now the _Amidala_." Like earlier, when Vader had trailed his fingers over the hull right before they entered the ship, he was now trailing fingers lightly over the controls, presumably staring out the cockpit's viewport. The sense of him in the Force was huge and distant, like the pearly, faint sky above them.

Staring at his father's back, Luke knew he now _had_ to explore every single nook and cranny before they left the ship. _Had to_. But for the moment, he stepped close up to Vader's side, hesitating briefly before he laid a hand on his father's arm. A slight, minute tremble, barely felt through the layers of the suit, seemed to go through his father.

"Sit." A gesture to the seat beside the one Vader was standing at, and Luke shook himself and sat down, swallowing the request to fly it for later.

The ship rose easily up from the barren moon's surface, dust clouds swallowing them for a moment before they rose above the grit and they aimed for the steel-gray sky, which quickly turned black. The planet the moon orbited was a pastel pearl of pinks, greys and purples, with flashes of brilliant turquoise underneath the clouds where water (and only water, apparently) was.

Luke divided his attention to the view as much as to what Vader was doing, trying to memorise the controls simply by seeing it done even as he followed the few instructions Vader gave him. As they flew, circling the water planet and then veering away from it, Luke glanced at his father and weighed his options. 

He couldn't quite escape the feeling that this was the best - the only - time to ask something like this... despite that it obviously would be a sensitive topic. His hand was, once again, drawn to the lump underneath his clothing.

"Father... how did you meet?"

Instantly, the relatively relaxed darkness that had swirled around him stiffened and rose up in response to a tangle of emotions that was dominated by pain and guilt. It then flattened out and was swallowed up by a frozen, reflexive anger. Not _at him_ , Luke realised after a moment where he had to catch his breath, waiting for some sort of reprimand or Vader perhaps just leaving the cockpit.

But the silence stretched, and Luke slumped back into his seat, accepting that he would probably not get an answer to this question.

"... the Queen's ship was damaged during the Invasion of Naboo and they were forced to land on Tatooine. I... assisted in procuring parts for the ship. I later gave her the necklace you are wearing. One of the Jedi who were escorting the Queen noticed I was Force-sensitive and brought me back to Coruscant and the Jedi Temple."

Not sure whether to feel incredulous over what was very clearly an _extremely_ truncated version of the events and his father very clearly skipping over some more personally important parts or just understanding why he was, because this must be _hard_ , Luke blinked as Vader's short explanation brought up parts of a story he'd been told once about how his father had gotten off Tatooine. And he'd only been told it _once_ ; no amount of begging had made either Aunt Beru or Uncle Owen retell it, so he'd treasured it and it'd bolstered his own desire to fly and _get off of_ Tatooine.

"Oh," he murmured, watching the planet's two moons as Vader slowly circled them back around again, clearly not flying anywhere in particular. Not that it was really necessary; even just this aimless, leisurely flight gave suggestion of the ship's smooth workings and the powerful engines humming underneath the deckplates. 

"So _that's_ when the Boonta Eve race happened," Luke said it casually, staring out the narrow viewports and not so much as glancing at his father, not even when the _Amidala_ jerked forward in a distinctly _ungainly_ reaction that was very much contrary to how the ship had been flying so far.

"... _What_ do you know about _that_?" Vader's voice was clipped, harsh thunder, a rumble so severe it threatened to crack down the middle. Luke didn't turn, didn't move, but reached, tentatively, out along their connection and brushed against his father. Vader pulled back, harshly enough it felt like he'd left a burning sting. Luke took a breath and pushed down the slight twinge of upset and guilt both. Maybe he should've let it be at Vader's explanation...

Too late now.

"Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru told me once that before you got off Tatooine, to even be _able to do so_ , you participated in one of the Boonta Eve races and there was a bet between..." he trailed off, pausing to consider what and how he was going to say it, "Watto and, uh. They weren't specific, actually, but I suppose it was the Jedi you mentioned? And you won and that meant you could leave."

Meant that his father had been free from then on. 

Vader was a tightly reined in storm at his side, but the flash-frozen connection warmed just a shade; not exactly gratitude at how Luke was phrasing things _around_ the slavery, even as he clearly knew about it. Luke could feel something huge turning underneath the surface and wished he could reach out and _push_ , just a little. It wasn't as if it was his father's fault he'd been a slave.

It wasn't as if it was anything to be ashamed of. It just _was_. Luke closed his eyes as he suddenly remembered Vader's earlier words about the Emperor. His master. He swallowed down anger and bile, because 'was' a slave didn't seem to be the choice of word anymore. Maybe hadn't been for decades.

"Then they told me you became a navigator on a spice freighter," Luke added into the charged silence, attempting to keep his voice light. The same jerk as earlier happened, and the tension sort of _popped_ and for a brief, open moment, Luke got the full impact of his father's incredulous offense before it flattened out again.

"A _navigator_?" He might try to hide it, might not be able to hold onto it for long, but there was a pilot's outrage in those two words, and Luke had to swallow laughter.

"Yeah," he said, trying and failing somewhat to not make his amusement heard. Silence, with Vader staring out the viewport before he suddenly stood up.

"You may fly, but remember this ship usually needs a co-pilot, young one."

Then Vader strode out of the cockpit, and Luke only scrambled to move into the vacated seat because his father hadn't switched on the auto-pilot before he left.


	38. Lost and Found V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader tries to deal with the fact that Luke knows about his childhood past. It wasn't really something he'd ever planned to tell the boy, after all.

He _knew_.

The distant, flat realisation that Beru and Owen had shared enough of his story with Luke that the boy knew he had been a slave turned into a burning nova in his gut, creaking out in the tension of his hands, tightened into fists that made the joints protest and shot pain up through his arms. 

They had...

They had told Luke about his grandmother, and thus, about his father.

Stopping in front of the door that led into what had been the royal quarters, Darth Vader swayed. Immersed himself into the steady, inexorable rhythm of his breath and the eager swell of the dark side around him. Leaned forward with no conscious input from his body to rest the front of his helm against the door - it was locked, so it didn't automatically open, even with him standing right there.

Anger dissipated into an aching abyss.

He could not be angry at Owen and Beru for telling Luke about his grandmother. He would, in fact, have been angry had the child known nothing about her. It was his right to know, and while Owen and Beru had clearly not told Luke what he'd _actually_ done after being freed, for reasons he could see if not approve or accept, he was rather sure his inclusion in their telling Luke of Shmi was as incidental as possible.

It just wasn't possible to _not_ tell the boy _something_ about his father and his life as a slave if they were to tell him about his grandmother.

Vader remained where he was, leaning against a door that led to a room he hadn't entered since he first obtained this ship after... after the end of the Clone Wars, and was relieved he would not have to bring up _that_ part of his past to Luke, and at the same time felt furious the boy knew about it at all. Had had to deal with it, even if only in a theoretical way.

Children follow the mother.

So far, that was true for Luke, and he would have it no other way. His mind simply also insisted that for that to be _completely true_ , that would mean Luke should have no awareness of that part of his past, lest it drag him down. It was... unreasonable, he knew, but the feeling was undeniable.

The boy knew.

The realisation echoed, thundered through him, and memories of sand, Watto's spit commands, his mother's callused, dry hands and junk and parts in piles around him rose up. He beat it all down, pushed it away, and straightened from his lean against the door. Brushing a hand against it, he rested the hand there, staring without seeing the polished plasteel.

The boy _knew_ , and he wasn't sure what to do about that knowledge, how to proceed, now. This had been... no, it hadn't been a mistake, and it would have happened sooner or later, especially as he had planned to show Luke the _Amidala_ on his birthday at the latest. Perhaps, though, if these questions had been inevitable, it was better that it had happened _now_ and not two days after Empire Day, when he would still be wrung thin from the offensive and infuriating explosions of celebrations on that day.

The day he had lost her, even if she hadn't died until two days later.

The ship suddenly shuddered around him, then the pitch of the engines changed and he frowned.

_Luke. What are you doing?_

_Uh... going faster?_ Was the succinct but not very elaborate response, and Vader closed his eyes and then pushed away from the door without ever straying towards the lock controls. He'd never intended on going inside, after all. 

_You will need a co-pilot for more involved flying,_ he snapped as he turned on his heels and retraced his steps. There was a suspended, hesitant pause before Luke responded, careful and hopeful both.

_Then it's good I have one, isn't it?_.

His steps faltered, and an image of her smile, tremulous and joyous flashed through his mind ('Ani... I'm pregnant'), something which morphed into a flushed smile of excitement on Luke's face during the latest lightsaber training session he'd managed to have with the boy, his lightsabers casting coloured highlights over his skin.

What had he done to be given this child? The boy was by rights his, and yet...

It wasn't as if he _deserved him_.

"Yes, you do," he said as the door to the cockpit swept aside to allow him inside, and he strode over to the co-pilot's seat and sat down, reaching for the controls that would allow Luke to do as he very clearly wanted to, _without_ threatening to send them into uncontrolled jerks or worse.

Luke flashed him a grin and then turned forward again, pulling the sublight throttle forward for all it was worth and set them into a spin, aiming straight for one of the moons. He refrained from saying anything about how this wasn't a starfighter of barely a few tens of meters in length.

He had faith in his son, regardless of what he deserved to have from him or not.


	39. Comm Conversations III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke makes his recordings to the various members of the Naberrie household, and then finally has a proper conversation with his aunt and uncle in _months_. It goes about as you might expect.

"Aunt Sola, Grandmother, Grandfather... hi," Luke paused, squirmed, and then bit his lip. Not what he'd planned to do, but while he wanted to do this it also felt awkward just speaking without having anyone on the other end. At least it did when it wasn't Leia, or he didn't have anything in specific to say, like when he'd told Ben and the Organas he had to leave. 

"I'm okay. I'd planned to ask if I could come back for a few more days or a week or something after Ryoo and I visited Mother's grave, but, um. Things happened, so that didn't happen. Did Ryoo tell you? I'm okay, though." He flashed a smile, sincere and hoping it was at least a _little_ reassuring.

"I hadn't exactly planned to be where I am now, but... I think it'll be all right." Unsure what to say next or even how to _end_ the message, Luke smiled again and simply turned the recording off and then quickly sent it to the right frequency before he regretted it and tried to re-record it. If he did _that_ , he'd just get stuck on never feeling satisfied with it and redoing it over and over.

The urge to send a holo to Leia was _overwhelming_ , but if he did that and Vader noticed, then it'd be _all too obvious_ where he'd been during the weeks before he turned up on Coruscant. Therefore, Luke knew he _couldn't_ comm Leia, no matter how much he wanted to (just to see her face, hear her voice. He wasn't sure if it was a crush or something else or _what_ , but it was a need that felt undeniable.), so he beat it down. He had half a thought to comm _Han_ , but while that was far safer than comming Leia, he probably shouldn't do that either.

He'd been given leave to send messages to the Naberries and have a live comm with his aunt and uncle, and he should probably keep to that. It wasn't just about showing he could be trusted to do something like that without oversight, it was about everyone else's safety, too. With a sigh and a heavy breath, Luke turned the transceiver over in his hands for a moment before he put it down on the bed again and reached for the recording button.

"Hi, Pooja. I kinda wish I really could've met you while I was on Coruscant, because right now I don't know when I'll get the chance to talk to you face to face. Thanks for agreeing to talk to me in the first place, though." Rubbing his neck, Luke frowned and stared distantly off at the opposite wall for a moment, before he dragged his gaze back to the transceiver's camera. "Not that I know what the Senate's really like, but stay safe... and tell your friend that I miss her and I'm okay."

Flushing a little, he quickly turned off the recording and sent _that_ off too, before he could try to redo this one. At least this way Leia would know he was okay, because he had no doubt Pooja would understand who he meant when he'd said 'your friend'. And if his father was somehow listening, he hopefully wouldn't figure it out... But Luke didn't think he was, so it ought to be fine.

Reaching for the recording button again instead of the keys to input a frequency for a proper comm, Luke knew he was stalling. But while he certainly _wanted_ to talk to his aunt and uncle again, he was starting to dread it, too. Shaking his head, he straightened up and smiled.

"Hi, Ryoo. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything like this earlier, but... I just wanted to tell you that I'm all right, and that I think what happened was the best way it _could have_ happened," Luke said seriously, feeling a frown steal over his face, "I'm pretty sure that things could've turned out far worse if you'd contacted the authorities with that intruder, or if you'd convinced me to stay and call someone. Trust me. It's... well, as okay as it can be right now, I think."

This was honestly the most important message of these; he didn't want Ryoo to blame herself or think she should have done something differently than she had, or to hope that she could or should have stopped him from leaving. He remembered the sense of squeezing foreboding he'd experienced when he'd had that comm with Leia, and Luke was utterly convinced that if he'd stayed, or he'd let Ryoo comm the Organas or Ben, things would've been far, far worse.

He wasn't sure how, but they would have.

"So, try to not worry about me, I'm doing okay, Say hi to Vanée for me," Luke smiled and reached out, ending that recording as well and breathed out slowly.

Right.

Only one comm left. The one actual, real live comm he'd get to make. Chewing his lip, Luke stalled for a moment longer as he glanced around the room. The colours were bright and rich, the cloth of the covers he was sitting on thick and soft, and the decorative pillows behind him on the bed plush. The bed wasn't as big as the one he'd had on Alderaan, but for a bed on a _ship_ , it certainly was much larger than seemed to be a good use of premium ship space.

But then, since this was the quarters of the Queen, it made sense. Luke hadn't quite believed it when Vader had led him over to the door and opened it for him, waving him inside the... reception room(?) and then said there was a bedroom behind the other door and he could make his comms there. Luke had asked whose it was, and Vader, right before he'd stalked away, had very shortly replied 'the Queen's'.

His mother's, while she was queen, that was.

Luke trailed a hand over the cloth of the covers where he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, not quite able to believe it still. He'd tried to sit at the desk at first, but it'd felt all... off. Too formal, too _important_ , so he'd relocated to the bed instead, even if _that_ had felt a little weird.

Sitting on a bed his mother had slept in at least a few times during her two terms as Queen of Naboo.

No more stalling. Shaking his head, he quickly punched in the frequency and hoped a sand storm wasn't happening in the area - if it was, there was no way he would be getting through. Luckily, or unluckily, if he was to take his own sudden nerves into account, after several minutes (which he wasn't concerned about, the only transceiver at the homestead was an old one connected to the messaging center in the entrance dome, so it took a bit to get there) a small holo of his aunt suddenly lit up.

"Lars homestea--- _Luke_?!" Aunt Beru's cry ended in a choked up gasp and she swayed half a step back before she stepped closer again. Suddenly having to swallow a lump in his throat and blinking away a hot, liquid sheen that clung to his eyes, Luke smiled.

"Hi, Aunt Beru." It came out softer and quieter than he'd intended, and he swallowed again, opened his mouth and then... closed it again, uncertain what to say. How to continue.

"Are you all right?" Aunt Beru said, her surprise morphing into quiet, urgent concern, and Luke felt himself relax a little. That was familiar. That hadn't changed.

"Yeah. I'm _fine_. I mean, it's a bit... weird, everything, but I'm okay." He wasn't about to tell her he'd been involved in a dogfight and could potentially have died. He also wasn't about to tell her about his visit to Coruscant and jumping from speeder to speeder. She didn't need to know either of those things. "Where's Uncle Owen?"

"He should be back in a few minutes, so don't go anywhere," she said, frowning at him for a moment, then shook her head, "where _are you_ , Luke?"

He couldn't tell her. Swallowing, Luke shook his head.

"I can't tell you that, Aunt Beru," he tried to sound as serious as possible and hoped she wouldn't push, but her expression made him waver, "I mean, at the moment I actually don't know where I am, because I didn't see the hyperspace coordinates and I don't recognize the planet, but _usually_ I've got a general idea at least and... I can't tell you _that_. It wouldn't help anyone if they knew."

He wasn't sure what Ben or Ahsoka were supposed to do with the knowledge that he was on Death Squadron's flagship, anyway.

"Luke, that's nothing _you_ should worry about," Aunt Beru said softly, worry and concern etching deeper on her face and he wished he could _fix that_ , but what was he supposed to say?

"Beru? Who are you talking to? You know these things are expensive..." Uncle Owen's voice drifted in over the audio, though he wasn't in view of the holo yet. Aunt Beru turned around sharply, presumably gesturing his uncle over.

"Owen, get over here. It's Luke!"

The quick thunder of his uncle's footsteps and the snapped ' _Luke_!' was like he was five and had just gotten stuck under the falling pile of spare parts and junk in the garage, or when old Ben had led him home after he'd taken their dewback for a ride (and had a run-in with a krayt dragon) when he was thirteen.

"Where _are you_?" Uncle Owen snapped, tight, (protective) fury writ all over his face. Luke laughed, feeling the tears burning at the back of his eyes again and shook his head.

"I can't _tell you_ , Uncle Owen. I promise I'm fine, though. It's okay. I'm not hurt." Right now, anyway. Wasn't like he was going to mention the Coruscant incident to _Uncle Owen_ either.

"Luke..." Aunt Beru trailed off, her eyes soft, something which was somehow visible even in the blue cast of the holo over her actual colours. Uncle Owen crossed his arms, expression tightening.

"I've been flying," he said quickly, to forestall things that they didn't really have time for, for things he couldn't change - especially if he didn't want anyone to get in danger because of him - and grinned, "it's _amazing_. Though there's less space to move around on a ship." Maybe he shouldn't have said that, because that was a big (if general and not very helpful, he was sure) clue, but he wanted to tell them _something_ of what was going on.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you to behave or hope you're being your usual self," Uncle Owen said, rubbing a hand over his face. Luke chuckled and met Aunt Beru's smile through the holo as she reached out and laid a hand on her husband's elbow.

"Perhaps both, depending on the situation, as it changes," Aunt Beru suggested, and Luke felt his throat close up. He squeezed his eyes closed and took a breath against it, but it didn't go away. He couldn't do this any longer.

"I'll do my best. It'll be okay, Aunt Beru, Uncle Owen. _Trust me_. Stay safe." And then, before they said something, _anything_ that would actually make him cry or make him change his decisions against what he knew was best, he quickly disconnected the call and curled up, dropping his face into his hands.

Scrubbing harshly at his face didn't stave off the tears _or_ erase the proof of their existence quickly enough, and he took a shaky breath. He didn't feel any better, even if he also felt _relieved_ in a way he hadn't since he left the Academy. This didn't change anything, but the aching press of homesickness had abated a little... and worsened.

But it wasn't as if it could be in any other way, really. Luke wasn't aware he'd reached out through the Force until hesitant but gentle tendrils brushed against him, smoothing down the jagged flares he was apparently sending out through the Force.

His father said nothing, and didn't come into the bedroom (was, in fact, in the cockpit on the other end of the ship), and Luke didn't really _want_ him to. He was still _there_ , if hovering rather awkwardly half the time.

Luke swallowed the urge to yell accusations at him over their bond and just took what comfort he could get from the hesitant, dark warmth radiating from his father, knowing that he had done and was doing the best he could with what he had. It might not be enough, but he also didn't want to give up this chance to do... whatever it was he could, should do, with his father.

Wouldn't stop him from missing his aunt and uncle or Leia, Ben and Ahsoka, or feel a bit _trapped_ , however.


	40. Comm Conversations IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader makes a call to an agent and makes some arrangements to prepare for Empire Day.
> 
> (From here on out, we can consider the next few arcs to all fall under a larger one about Empire Day, since they're all leading up to, or because of it.)

Staring silently at the dark projection unit of the comm suite, Vader bit back a sigh of frustration. The weeks since the forced downtime for Death Squadron and the mission his master had sent him on had gone much too quickly for his taste. Luke had been subdued after his comm to his aunt and uncle, which he hadn't known what to do about, but knew that, in some way, he'd done the right thing in allowing it.

The boy was now also capable of easily floating several items at once, some quite heavy. He lost a bit of control and accuracy when he had to do something else (such as incorporating such items as projectiles in a fight), but his progress was remarkable. Death Squadron had made a show of patrolling around the Core and had a brief deployment to stifle some rebel activities on Fondor and their shipyards.

Productive, but each day had taken him closer to the time of year he hated the most, and which would also demand the most of him. There was only one task left before he had to leave for Imperial Center, and this time it didn't matter if he had Piett in Death Squadron to assist with keeping Luke safe. 

Not for this. 

The whole of the Death Squadron was going to Imperial Center for Empire Day so sticking Luke on the _Accuser_ wouldn't work, and either way he would _not_ take Luke that close to his master. Luke might have been safe (marginally) during his short and very ill-advised jaunt on Imperial Center when his master had only noticed a barely-trained presence and sent Jade after him, but he couldn't rely on the same happening again.

Luke was... brighter, now, to match his progress, and while it soon wouldn't matter _where_ Luke was, Vader was sure he at least had _months_ still, as long as he could keep Luke at a reasonable distance from Imperial Center and thus his master. And 'reasonable distance' didn't mean 'in the same system'.

So Captain Piett and the _Accuser_ wasn't viable, and his castle was not yet a possibility either. Putting Luke there already, even if the boy was making impressive progress with his shielding and general control... It wasn't time yet.

That, then, left his... emergency option.

It was not one he wished to employ now. On the one hand, Luke had shown himself trustworthy enough not to try and leave when given the chance, so that, at least, meant that his emergency option's somewhat limited ability to deal with a powerful Force user, no matter how little trained Luke was, was of less importance. But there was a difference between going between one Star Destroyer to another, under the distant supervision of his father, and being put on a ship and sent out into the Galaxy.

And aside from that, it wasn't... the safest. If he had been on better terms with Mother Jade, he might have employed her and her Nightsisters. Putting Luke on Dathomir in the middle of a nest of Dathomirian witches would, at least, both keep him safe and on the planet. But he was not willing to put Luke anywhere _near_ Mother Jade unless _absolutely necessary_.

(In a way she was, somewhat, his absolute emergency option, he had to reluctantly admit.)

Flattening his lips and pressing them in a thin line that sent a throb throughout his skull, Darth Vader completed the encryption necessary and let the comm connect.

"Lord Vader!" a voice bright with startled cheer and some nervousness greeted him, boots thunking back on the deck from where they'd been resting up on the control panel. He suppressed a sigh.

"Doctor Aphra. I have a mission for you."

He watched as the young woman leaned forward, a gleam of eager interest in her eyes, and if nothing else, she was always... enthusiastic. And could, as far as he could trust anyone, be trusted. He did not like bringing yet another person into the circle of those who knew about his son, but at least he'd had ample evidence in the months since he first contracted her services that Doctor Aphra could be trusted not to reveal something like this, for several reasons.

"What are we stealing or blowing up, boss?"

He would have to disappoint her.

"Nothing," he said and watched a brief flash of confusion flicker over her face before she contained it, "you are to keep my son safe until I can collect him after the Empire Day... _festivities_ are over." He could not contain his loathing of the way the thing was celebrated in general, of Empire Day and its close connection to the death of... of _Padmé_ in particular, but pushed it away.

"Your--- I... Oh." Aphra stuttered, mentally flailed and stared at him for a moment, eyes wide and blinking, expression empty, before she nodded and straightened up sharply. "Of course, Lord Vader! Where do you... um, want me to come pick him up and leave him when you're ready to collect him?"

Listening to his own forced, rhythmic breathing for a moment, Darth Vader accepted that this was how it had to be.

"Two days, Kuat. Coordinates will be transferred. You will be supplied another rendezvous when this foolishness is over with," Vader ground out and then disconnected the comm, not feeling the least bit relaxed as he was left staring at the dark comm suite again.

Luke might not attempt to leave, and Aphra was certainly _capable_ , but Luke was a Skywalker... and his mother's son, so Vader felt a slow, uncertain twist of unease in his abused internal organs.

Who knew what might happen when he let Luke off the relatively limited surroundings that a Star Destroyer was, and no longer surrounded by the legions of stormtroopers stationed on them?


	41. Weapons of Mass Destruction I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of several smaller plot arcs that all could be tied into Empire Day, since that's why everything will happen from now on for a bit. ;) Luke finally finishes his MSE droid, and Vader keeps the destination a secret.

"And... there we go," Luke murmured, grinning as he put down the multitool, sealed the side panel up and activated his new MSE droid. It booted up with a chirp, twirled in a circle and then bumped gently up against his crossed legs. Luke laughed and felt pretty proud over his accomplishment.

"Hey there, Minnie," he said, partly experimentally to see if he'd programmed it well enough it could forego responding only to its exact identification string, especially as the name he'd chosen had only the barest thing to do with either the series name or the individual ID string. The little droid chirped and did another twirl around itself, coming to a neat stop in front of Luke and twittered a proper simple binary hello.

"Yeah, great to see you're up and functioning. Sorry it took so long," Luke said, feeling his smile widening and refusing to go away when she beeped and chirped something he was pretty sure was both agreement (that it had taken long) and dismissal of his apology. Being with Artoo really had given him a good start on learning binary, especially as Artoo's astromech binary was more complicated than the binary usually used for MSE droids.

Which only made him miss the little droid and Threepio both all the more. Smile dropping away, Luke scrubbed his face - and got another bump on his leg along with an inquiring chirp. A tiny smile escaped, and he dropped one hand to rest it on top of Minnie's bulk.

"No, I'm okay. I'm just... was just missing a friend." Which made him curse in reminder; if he'd remembered back when he'd talked with Aunt Beru ad Uncle Owen, he could've asked about the droids! Blast, he was an idiot. Another inquiry, this time a question if she could do something.

"Not about _that_ , no, but..." Luke paused and glanced behind him to the door that led out to the office and the rest of Vader's quarters. Then, he carefully tossed his attention out through the Force and found his father on the bridge - of course, he wasn't able to retreat before Vader noticed him.

_Son?_

_Nothing, just wondering when we're due to come out of hyperspace. You **still** haven't told me where we're going, Father._ Luke didn't expect a reply; when Vader had told him they were making a brief stop at a construction project before continuing on to Kuat and the shipyards containing Vader's new flagship for the Death Squadron (something Luke was looking forward to see for himself _a lot_ after that first glimpse he'd had of the _Executor_ over holo) he'd refused to say anything other than that they were stopping at Sentinel Moon for no longer than a few hours.

 _There's an hour and a half left, Luke, which you would know if you bothered to consult your computer instead of bothering **me**._ The contact broke abruptly, and Luke unnecessarily hid his grin behind one hand and focused back on Minnie.

"Okay so, this is what I want you to do," he said, lowering his voice reflexively, even if Vader was nowhere near the quarters and there was no other surveillance in here, "we're going to drop out of hyperspace in one and a half hours, and then Father and I are leaving for something called Sentinel Moon. I want you to sneak out of these rooms when we leave and try to find out what 'Sentinel Moon' is. Anything about it will do."

What he was going to _do_ with that information, if Minnie found anything at all about it, Luke didn't know. He had half a thought that it might be something the rebels would want to know about, and if he could get the information to Ahsoka or Ben... or maybe Leia and _she_ could tell them? then someone that could actually do something would be able to use it.

Minnie twittered and twirled around in agreement, beeping her confidence and Luke chuckled.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I can't find anything about it in my computer, and even if you could slice it and give me greater access, that'd be noticed... So this is probably the next best thing." Whatever Sentinel Moon was, it was important, and important in a way Luke was sure the rebels could use, _if_ they could find out about it. Luke hoped, that even if _he_ didn't find out anything useful, that _they_ would. Maybe just giving them the name, if he could, would be enough...

That thought lingering, Luke spent the next hour and a half running through various tasks to make sure Minnie was operating the best she could and that he hadn't missed anything - sometimes it was just easier to find that out after turning a droid on for the first time and just _asking_ , after all. A droid knew its own workings well, and would know if something was wrong.

It got him involved enough he missed Vader not just approaching their quarters, but the doors opening as well, leaving Luke twitching and turning around with a lopsided grin at the shift of leather behind him and his father's dark presence so close.

"Look," he said instead of apologising, pointing down at the MSE droid at his feet. Minnie twittered and twirled around again, driving up close to Vader's feet and then backing off quickly. The helmet barely inclined but there was a slight twitch in Vader's Force presence. Nothing big, but...

"Well done, son. Don't forget your helmet," his father said and Luke grimaced but bent down to pick it up, setting it on his head. When he came up beside Vader, however, the man didn't turn to leave before him, but rather held a hand out and handed Luke a code cylinder.

"What's this for?" Blinking, he turned the squat metal cylinder over in his hand. He doubted it was for their quarters; the doors that led from his rooms and from the office to the rest of the quarters were no longer locked, no, but this _would not_ , Luke was utterly sure, be a code cylinder for the door that led out into the rest of the Star Destroyer.

"In case we get separated on the station. It has accesses you need to move around with until I can meet with you, and will provide credentials if anyone should be foolish enough to demand them," Vader rumbled and then paused, his masked gaze heavy on Luke, "and do not take this as an invitation to get 'lost', Luke."

Wincing a little at the sudden deepening of the rumble coming from the vocoder, Luke nodded. He'd barely _thought it_ before he'd been warned against it... Rolling the thing between his fingers one more time, Luke tucked it away in an inner pocket and followed his father through the rooms and out into the corridors. He definitely did _not_ look behind him as the door swooped closed behind them; he'd just have to trust that Minnie had gotten out and would also _come back_ to him.

Despite his convictions, Luke frowned and cast a glance behind him when they were half-way down the corridor.

It was empty aside from a junior officer on the far end, and they were too far apart for Luke to be able to tell if he had seen the man before or not, but he somehow seemed familiar, despite the exceedingly bland looks the man sported, from what Luke could see. Minnie was nowhere in sight. Shaking his head, he hurried after his father and skipped into the turbolift.


	42. Weapons of Mass Destruction II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The destination is _still_ a secret from Luke, but he's got other worries to deal with, suddenly.

Compared to other times when Luke had taken a shuttle with his father, this time there was a proper crew on it, and he didn't try to get into the cockpit, even if that, surely, would've given him some idea of what 'Sentinel Moon' was. Instead he sat beside his father and rather wished he could fiddle with something. His necklace was hidden underneath his clothes, the code cylinder he'd tucked away and should, probably, not be displayed, and while the Inquisitor lightsaber was still basically harmless, he knew he'd be told off for playing with something that would normally be a lethal weapon.

He didn't even know how _long_ this trip would be... Cocking his head at that thought, it reminded him of how secretive Vader had been when he'd taken him to see the _Amidala_. Which...

_You didn't leave her on that moon, did you?_ Luke didn't do more than flicker his eyes in his father's direction, something which would be hidden by the mirrored visor _anyway_ as he asked, using their bond instead of chancing talking out loud, because he wasn't actually sure how secret that beautiful ship was.

_... No. I went back after you were back on the_ Devastator _and brought her home._

Wherever 'home' was. Luke opened his mouth and then closed it again, _knowing_ he wouldn't be getting an answer for that. Yet, anyway. The slowness with which some things were being revealed was _really_ frustrating, though, and Luke had to press his lips together not to pout. Luckily the shuttle ride did not take long, and they didn't go to lightspeed at any point during it.

The shuttle passed through a magnetic field ten minutes after they'd left the _Devastator_ , the slight shudder through the ship a tell-tale sign that they'd reached their destination even if nothing could be seen. Luke had never been more annoyed than now that Lambda shuttles didn't have viewports anywhere but in the cockpit.

Following his father, Luke almost stumbled for a step or two down the ramp, because there was a full complement of an honour guard arranged in rows on the deck in front of the shuttle's ramp, and a sour-faced man at the head, who looked like all flesh had been carefully freeze-shaved off his face to leave the skull obvious beneath a thin layer of skin.

"Lord Vader," the man said, not so much _twitching_ into even a suggestion of a bow, hands firmly clasped behind him, "a last visit before we all relocate for the usual festivities, I see." There was a sharp, nearly amused flatness in those words, a deadly blandness that Luke wasn't sure what it meant. The man had, so far, not even glanced at him where he stood half a step behind Vader, staring out down the rows of stormtroopers and officers, hands behind his back.

It was a good thing, and more than just because that it meant his Inquisitor 'disguise' was working. There was just something that left him feeling like he didn't actually want this man's attention.

"Grand Moff," his father said, quiet thunder rolling through the hangar, and then they started to walk, with no clear indication from either of the two men what had spurred the decision to do so. Luke chanced a glance behind him, but all he could see around the shuttle and out the magnetic field was the dark airlessness of space, glittering stars and the shadow of the _Devastator_ in the distance. All that meant was that whatever 'Sentinel Moon' was, it was probably an orbiting station of some kind, which really told him absolutely _nothing_.

Biting back a sigh, Luke followed after his father and the grand moff through corridors that seemed to be endless. The further they walked, however, something seemed to gather in the Force. Frowning, Luke tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was. It felt... vaguely familiar?

_Father? Is... there another Force user here?_

The steady thunder of Darth Vader's footsteps hesitated half a second before they fell smoothly again. Luke got no direct answer to his question, and even if Vader hadn't spoken up they would undoubtedly have gotten an answer either way.

"There is someone else here," Vader said, looking straight ahead as they walked down the latest polished corridor that nonetheless had spots that weren't covered by panelling, revealing wiring and cables underneath. The grand moff snorted, finally releasing one of his hands to gesture loosely behind him, towards Luke.

"Aside from your own tail, Lord Vader? It seems the Emperor wants to assure himself that the structure in place is solid, which requires a longer overview than your brief visits. She will be returning to Imperial Center with my delegation."

Luke had a brief moment, allowing himself to grimace; did the Imperial hierarchy trust itself so little? Then he thought over that 'she', and while nothing came to him through the Force and the coalescing Force presence still only seemed vaguely familiar to him, Luke felt a sudden sense of foreboding.

"I see," Vader rumbled, short and flat, but it did nothing to settle the sudden twist of Luke's stomach.

_Father..._

_Do nothing. Interact as little as possible with her, and use a distraction if you have to. Do not let her identify you,_ his father's mental voice snapped, tight and heated and a galaxy of difference compared to the words that had been said through the vocoder. Foreboding settled into dread, because he was suddenly sure Vader knew who this 'she' was and was treating the threat as real.

_How am I supposed to do **that** if I'm---_

They turned a corner, and Luke's thoughts ground to a halt, because the Inquisitor standing by the open doors to a conference room was familiar. Her Force presence and the wisps of red hair that had escaped whatever held her hair up underneath the helmet settled with the dread and turned his stomach into a lump.

"You will wait here," Vader said, gesturing to the other side of the door, opposite of the young woman who'd chased him on Imperial Center, and strode in after the grand moff.

The door closed behind them, leaving Luke with someone he wasn't sure how she _couldn't_ recognise him, considering _he_ had felt the familiarity of her Force presence. Swallowing, he settled by the door and stared resolutely at the wall across the corridor. How could this _not_ end in disaster, and how was he supposed to distract her from not identifying him?

The lump in his stomach tightened.


	43. Weapons of Mass Destruction III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade clash.

The wall was a uniform, flat gray, polished in that sort of way new and unworn metal was, that hadn't seen any or much use yet. It was wholly uninteresting, but it was more or less Luke's only choice in distraction. He couldn't - didn't dare to - after all, talk to the girl beside him.

He could feel her growing anger, which didn't help his urge to shift nervously in place. Did she know? Was she angry because she knew she was standing next to the boy she'd chased on Imperial Center? If not, what _was_ she angry over? Was this some sort of dark side thing that he simply wasn't used to, since his only exposure so far had been his father?

And his father, compared to the young woman beside him, never seemed to exactly... slowly grow in rage and held-back violence. He was a constant, pressing supernova that sometimes just... exploded, whether that was in a sudden discharge of energy Luke had no idea what the reason had been, or from some sort of slow-cooking pressure that finally was let out when the limit was met.

Glancing sideways to the girl out of the corner of his vision, Luke was glad for his mirrored visor and the mask, regardless of if she already knew who he was or not. It let him do things like trying to keep an eye on her without her noticing. He hoped, anyway.

He could barely see the curve of her cheek and the rounded edge of her cheekbone peeking out beyond the edge of her helmet and retracted mask, wisps of red strands like slashes of bright colour in the harsh light of the corridor. Her presence in the Force was getting unsteadier - or, no. She was keeping it back less and less, Luke now realised, though the slowly building anger was still real and getting less controlled.

She was like a localised thunderstorm, an unfocused ill-intent that wavered between bleeding out around her and suddenly and very deliberately pressing down on him. It'd almost forced him to suck in a breath several times in the last fifteen minutes from pressure on his chest that wasn't actually there.

Luke knew he hadn't imagined her brief, smug spike of pleasure the one time he hadn't been able to stifle the urge, so he knew she was doing that deliberately.

Why, he still didn't know. Wished he dared, _could_ ask her if there was a particular reason she was acting like this. Wondered if he _shouldn't_ , despite having been told not to talk to her, because wouldn't they need to know if she'd recognised him or not? Or would his father attempt to question her later, under the guise of some sort of... authority thing, since he knew Vader was of a higher station than any of the Inquisitors, and he could probably ask her about her impressions of what was going on on this station under the guise of needing to know himself.

Luke frowned at that; he wasn't sure he liked that idea. Not sure _why_ , either, because even if she hadn't recognised him, he doubted she had any of his best interests at heart. But his father questioning her, especially if he feared (and Luke knew it would be fear. Fear and protective anger) that she'd recognised him, would probably not end well for her.

She turned her head to stare at him, her anger suddenly wavering and her leaf-green eyes narrowing.

Luke realised with a sudden stab of anxiety that he'd briefly forgot to properly shield, and if she hadn't been suspicious _before_... There was a careful prod at his shields, an attempt at being subtle, but he caught it mostly because his father, despite what he'd thought possible, _could_ be stealthy in his attempts at trying to break Luke's growing ability to shield himself, and he had more finesse than this Inquisitor had.

But he suddenly knew, with a rush of night-cold certainty, that if he didn't do anything, she _would_ figure it out, compared to what he realised had simply been unfocused anger at his general presence before. Probably saw him as a rival...

That thought brought a clear understanding of what he could do to hopefully distract her from looking too close at him. To hopefully make her want to not look at him _at all_ , in the Force or otherwise.

"I'll take your place one day," Luke said, pulling the Force closer while still shielding; it'd feel, at best (he thought) like an indistinct pressure, without her being able to tell that he wasn't actually drawing on the dark side. He'd straightened his back and made sure to tip his chin up, trying to drop his voice as much as he could to let that and the faint distortion the mask added hopefully make his voice as different as possible from how he'd sounded on Imperial Center. It was a guess at best, but the fact that he'd met her outside the Imperial Palace surely meant something, so a threat to whatever position she might hold might be exactly what he needed to distract her from _him_.

The Inquisitor stilled, going stiff like a corpse left out in the suns for too long. He thought she even went pale underneath her freckles, from what he could see of her face---

She whirled around, a snarl stark on her face, and for a moment he had a proper view of her, her large eyes a colour that, to Luke, had been present very rarely in his life until not yet a year ago, now, pale skin and freckles - then she was right up in front of him, nose nearly pressed against his mask, glare unerringly finding his gaze despite the fact that the visor was mirrored.

"You'll _never_ get my position," she snarled, her anger wild, nearly _animalistic_ in its intensity, clear as day in her Force-signature and, to Luke, completely out of proportion to his (fake) threat. Sure, he'd wanted a reaction, but this... A shift near his midsection, and he shot a hand out, sliding over a half-circle and down to close it around her hand and the hilt of her lightsaber.

He yanked it aside just in time to avoid being speared by the red blade, eyes wide behind his visor and mask, hoping he had---

_**Luke**?_ Vader snapped, his mental voice tight. Cursing in his head, well away from the connection, he had to stop himself from shaking his head less the Inquisitor see.

_It's nothing. She almost paid enough attention to figure out who I was. I distracted her._

He didn't pay any more attention to see if his father responded, instead he focused on the Inquisitor struggling to get her lightsaber back, but since he couldn't tell if she she was about to try to spear him with it again, he tightened his grip. When he didn't let her have it back, she hissed, raising her chin and glaring at him.

"And I'll end up taking _his_ too---" She cut herself off, dread and wariness flooding into the place of the anger, and stared at him. Luke could easily imagine who 'he' meant here. Darth Vader. She wanted to be the Emperor's apprentice. He supposed it was a natural desire within the structure of what the Inquisitors seemed to be compared to his father.

The mirrored visor still between them and Luke not saying anything, she hissed again, teeth bared and gaze flicking sideways to the door, then, slowly, backed off. They were almost an arm's length apart before he let go of her hand and the lightsaber, but Luke was tense and ready to leap aside.

She didn't try to strike again. 

Instead she gave him a dirty glare, took a shaky breath, anger still threading through the wariness in her Force presence, clammy and oil-slick. Her mask snapped closed over her face and she turned sharply on her heel, stomping back to her side of the door and, like Luke had done earlier, stared stonily at the wall opposite from the door.

Well.

He'd succeeded in what he needed to do; keep the Inquisitor from looking too closely at him and realise she'd met him before. But it left him feeling somewhat unsettled from her reaction to it. He turned back slowly to stare at the wall himself, and for the next twenty minutes until the door opened again, she could just as well have been on another planet, as tightly reined-in as her presence in the Force was.


	44. Weapons of Mass Destruction IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father and son take a walk through the Death Star's unfinished corridors, and Luke isn't impressed by what he sees. Vader is an accomplice.

His father did pull the Inquisitor away after he and the grand moff came out of the conference room, even after Luke quietly said over their bond that she didn't know and hadn't figured anything out. She came out of the room with the mask covering her face, shoulders stiff, but she didn't seem hurt in any way.

If anything, she seemed just plain angry again, underneath a thin film of what could only barely be called respect. Mostly healthy wariness. She looked to him, and while he couldn't _see it_ , her shoulders twitched up and it wasn't hard to imagine the snarl on her face before she stormed away.

"Follow me," Vader rumbled as he walked passed him, and Luke fell into step behind his father. The corridors were polished, half-finished, and not nearly as empty as they'd seemed on the trip to the conference room. But the less finished the corridors were, the less they were filled by officers or stormtroopers and more by non-Humans in thin, gray outfits, hollow-eyed and moving dully. There were usually a token presence of a stormtrooper outfit at each end of the corridors where there were more than three of these aliens working at once, aside from their overseer.

Luke almost forgot to be frustrated by the lack of viewports on the space station, at least where they were walking, seeing those aliens. Because it was obvious they weren't just plain, properly paid (if paid far too little, in food, clothes and lodging) workers; these were _slaves_.

Luke gritted his teeth, hands tightening into fists as he tried to think of _anything_ he could do here and now to help them, but short of instigating a slave uprising _right now_ (something which Luke had a feeling was a supremely bad idea anyway, with no planning as it was) what else was there?

Could he convince the overseers (each and every one of them) to get the slaves a few proper meals? Make sure they weren't punished? _How_ in that case?

_Luke..._

_Don't,_ he snapped, angry beyond belief and with a sour burning in the back of his throat, _unless you're going to tell me we can fix this right now, I don't want to hear it._ How could his father _stand it_? But asking him would get a platitude he was suddenly, uncomfortably sure his father was and had been clinging to out of sheer necessity for over a decade at least.

It didn't fix anything, but---

The doors that opened for them while his father remained silent took them into a crowded, ill-lit room filled with buttons, half of which were dark and the rest blinking fitfully. His father stopped, hands landing on his belt, and he stared, for long enough Luke's simmering anger cooled a shade and got pushed back in favour of him looking around and glancing up at Vader.

"... too easily traced," his father finally muttered, the baritone a shadowed thunder in the rather confined space, and then whirled around, forcing Luke to take a step sideways to not just avoid getting bumped into but to let Vader pass.

"What---"

"We're leaving," Darth Vader growled, a shade tenser than usual, something _almost_ like actual depth in the flat rumble that usually came from the vocoder. His father's presence in the Force was a flat storm, not quite but almost that about-to-break-loose explosion he'd contrasted against the Inquisitor's sudden flare-up.

Luke wasn't sure if it was the presence of the slaves in general or his own reaction to them that had caused that reaction in his father, but either way Luke didn't feel bad about it, and gave the broad back and the swaying cloak a dark look behind his mirrored visor as he followed him back through the very same half-finished corridors to the hangar and the shuttle.

Vader said nothing when Luke pushed one overseer into the wall as he readied a light-whip against a Twi'lek's back, and yanked one stormtrooper's rifle to crack into his helmet hard enough he staggered back when he'd been about to hit a Wookiee in the shoulder.

Said nothing and did nothing at all, merely stormed in stony silence down the corridors, but Luke knew he didn't imagine the brief, light brush across their bond.


	45. Weapons of Mass Destruction V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader and Luke leave "Sentinel Moon" behind, and Luke turns a few things over in his head and asks his father about the Inquisitor he's met twice, now.

Luke didn't mind when Vader went straight for his hyperbaric chamber as soon as they were inside their quarters, without saying anything at all. Really, it might be for the best, because all Luke wanted to do right now was yell at him - but not even necessarily to accuse his father, because he _was_ aware his influence was extremely limited, but that only made him more frustrated at the moment, looping back to the issue he was angry about - about the slaves on whatever that space station had been.

So he just watched the sphere close, but triggered his mask and visor to open and withdraw before the halves could seal his father away completely and gave him a little smile and a wave. He didn't get much in the way of a response to that, though, aside from, maybe, a lightening of the tenseness in Vader's Force presence.

Sighing, Luke felt his shoulders droop and crossed the office, and then the outer of his two rooms, shedding the armour of his Inquisitor outfit as he went and then threw himself on the bed, an arm thrown over his face.

What little he'd done for the slaves on the way back felt so insignificant as to not matter. 

He knew about the Mind Trick of course. Ben had told him. Groaning, Luke pressed his arm down, watching coloured starbursts explode across the darkness of his closed eyelids. Knew about it and had, for a moment, been tempted. And then felt like he was going to throw up, because even if such a thing would've been for a good cause, used on individuals that were doing a cruel job, some of them with some note of glee and definitely unnecessary violence in it, that...

That was way too close to turning those people into slaves of another sort, however shortly. He hadn't thought about it that way when Ben had told him about the Mind Trick, but as he'd readied to try and use it - at a distance, in passing - on one of the overseers they passed, Luke watching two Wookiees carry a huge steel beam under the steely stare and narrow threat of a thin, gray-haired woman, and realised what he'd been planning to do.

A greater ill might justify a smaller one, but...

But.

And now he was left feeling empty and frustrated and not having done enough...

A loud beep from the floor and something bumping into his foot made Luke jerk and pull his legs up on the bed. Then he rolled over and peered over the edge, chuckling at the little mouse droid there.

"Sorry, Minnie. I didn't forget you followed us inside, I was just..." scrubbing his face, Luke sighed. Today had been... tense. Unpleasant. Frustrating, because he had a vague fear Minnie had picked up nothing useful either. "Thinking. Did you find anything out?"

The long, definitely sad beep confirmed Luke's fear, and he slumped down, reaching out to pat the little droid on her top as she beeped again, a flurry of apology and regret.

"No, it's okay. It was a possibility. You did your best, Minnie, and we'll do our best with what we have," Luke muttered, frowning. Still had nothing more than 'Sentinel Moon' and 'space station', which really didn't tell him _anything_. There was still the possibility of telling Leia and the others. The question was just _how_ to get it to them, and when he might even have a chance to do such a thing undetected.

Not on the _Devastator_ , anyway. Would he get a chance later?

Maybe.

With a sigh and another pat to Minnie's top, Luke rolled over on the bed again, throwing his arm back over his eyes. Underneath and around him, the Star Destroyer hummed with the power of a working hyperdrive and a ship caught in the throes of hyperspace. Now, Luke knew where they were going; Kuat and the Kuat Drive Yards, where Darth Vader and Death Squadron's new flagship lay in dock.

His father's willingness to tell him _that_ , however, compared with his reticence over Sentinel Moon made said reticence even more obvious. It also made Luke think back on that infuriating space station, though this time he shied away from the thought of the slaves working to finish the station.

Instead, his thoughts wandered to the skull-faced grand moff and his Inquisitor... what, investigator? guard? impending assassin if something was found not to be to the Emperor's pleasure?

Frowning into the muted shadows created by his arm over his face, Luke thought about that Inquisitor. Why her? She'd been both there, on Sentinel Moon, and on Imperial Center...

Luke realised then that he probably could get answers concerning the Inquisitor at least, and easily so.

_Father..?_

It took several long moments, almost a full minute, before Vader responded, his mental voice clipped and flat; _What is it? I am not going to discuss the station or its particulars with you, Luke._

Well, that _almost_ made Luke want to press about it. About Sentinel Moon in general and the slaves in particular, but... What was he going to say that would give them something to work with instead of him just yelling at his father? Give them something that might be useful instead of things even Darth Vader could do nothing about until something else had actually changed (that something being his position with the Emperor and the Emperor himself)?

_I was wondering about that Inquisitor. She was on Imperial Center too. Who is she?_ Luke finally said instead, picking at the covers of his bed as he spoke to his father through this strange connection. He'd asked what it was, once, and Vader had gone silent, and then, a hand on his shoulder, had said it was because they were father and son. That realisation was both nice and a bit unsettling, because this was so _close_.

_... You do not need to concern yourself with her,_ Vader said, the earlier flat tone deepening and opening up, a bit of surprise turning into disapproval. Luke snorted and rolled his eyes behind his arm.

_I think I **do**. What if I meet her again? Not just any Inquisitor would be in the Imperial Palace, would they?_ He hoped they wouldn't fight about _this_ instead of the slaves on that space station.

_You will **not** \---_ the sudden, not _quite_ angry thunder from Vader made Luke twitch, knocking his hand against his forehead. He almost burst out with something annoyed, but managed to bite his tongue (quite literally) for a few breaths and then his father continued before he could say anything at all. 

_Her name is Mara Jade. Currently the Second Sister of the Inquisitorus. My master went and picked her up personally, as the latest stage in some... personal amusement with the dark side practitioners from which he took her from._ The earlier anger bled away for deep distaste, though Luke wasn't quite sure if that was for Palpatine's act or the dark side practitioners he'd mentioned. That made Luke frown thoughtfully.

_Why would he do that? Wouldn't they be on his side?_

The sigh over the bond was surprising, and so utterly _human_ Luke had to swallow back a lump in his throat.

_Users of the dark side is one thing, son, and Sith are another. Sith use the dark side, but not all dark side users are Sith,_ he said quietly, pausing momentarily, _the same would... apply for the light side, **presumably**._

Funnily enough, there was a hesitation in that revelation, and Luke was sure it had as much to do with that his father didn't want to mention that at all, as the fact that he really didn't sound sure of his conclusion, even if it was just, really, common sense. 

But then, Ben hadn't mentioned anything like that at any point either, and maybe... it wasn't as obvious as it seemed, now?

_She does possess a somewhat privileged position within the Inquisitorus, not reflected in her title, and one which she is prouder over than she ought to be,_ his father continued, tone flat, _though only through her own ability. I am sure my master would have been just as amused should she have proven herself weak in the Force and lacking in use as well. Dying where those who would know who she is would see her failing though her own lack of strength would've brought him as much entertainment as she is currently doing by being as useful as she is._

Vader spoke matter of factly now, a flat recitation that was as unsettling as the motives his father was ascribing to his master. Cruelty for cruelty's (and amusement's) sake, using a girl who was caught up in an ambition that would, if she tried to press it, get her killed, and with no more thought than the moment's use and entertainment she might provide. Luke dropped his arm from his face and stared up at the ceiling, the thought squeezed in cold certainty.

_... Father, do you know---_

_That she desires my position? Of course. They all do,_ Vader literally _growled_ , something that was actually more unsettling _because_ he was hearing the human heat and derision in his voice as compared to the flat, if menacing, sound the vocoder would've produced, _they will get nothing._

He could feel the flare of the dark side from his father from clear at the other end of their quarters and physically shuffled back on the bed, trying not to wince.

_Father..._

_This is your legacy, son, you should---_

_Can we **not**? Unless you want to suggest something useful 'bout the slaves?_ Luke snapped, feeling somewhere between guilty and free in his anger for having to pull this tactic. Briefly, the sense of overwhelming dark flared, then collapsed on itself like a dying sun.

_Two hours, the training room,_ Vader rumbled, then withdrew from their connection, and Luke blinked, a little breathless, up at the ceiling. Two hours would probably leave his father still angry, but not dangerously so. Which meant he was just going to try another tactic to make Luke use the dark - pressing him with a seemingly overwhelming and definitely dangerous opponent.

He would just have to show his father that tactic wouldn't work.

"Wake me up in an hour and a half, would you, Minnie?"

The little mouse droid gave a positive beep, and Luke rolled over, pulling the cover with him and not bothering to get into the bed properly. He was comfortable enough, even with his boots on. He wasn't really tired, but he was buzzed enough he'd be mentally exhausted by the time they were supposed to have their training duel if he _didn't_ try to rest.


	46. Weapons of Mass Destruction VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke meets two ladies; the _Executor_ , and his babysitter for the next week.
> 
> ... and says goodbye to his father for the coming week as well.

"Why?" Luke watched Darth Vader freeze where he sat at the desk, having already gone back to the datapads stacked on it for, apparently, a last check. Luke was pretty sure his father wasn't actually reading even the one he had at the top; what would be the point when they were leaving for the bridge soon?

"... 'why' what?" Vader growled, not lifting his helmet from the datapad he was, supposedly, reading.

"Why do I need to pack for a week? What am I apparently doing?" Luke elaborated, frowning. It was nearing ten hundred standard in the evening, but even so and with an additional two hours of duelling, another hour of training after _that_ and then dinner, Luke wasn't tired or distracted enough _not_ to ask. "I thought I'd just be stuck on the _Devastator_ or go back to the _Accuser_ during Empire Day or something, since I suppose you need to be on Imperial Center for that?"

Luke hadn't watched any broadcasts of the Empire Day celebrations from Imperial Center even once in his life, but he suspected Vader would at least make a few appearances during them, if nothing else. Luke watched his father stiffen further at the mention of Empire Day, and he felt a bit sorry for having brought it up, but it was inevitable, really.

But he got _why_ , when his father actually spoke up again, the baritone was even flatter and more thunderous than usual, and Vader's presence in the Force had gone distant and controlled. He had, after all, not missed the date of his mother's death (within a few days of possibility) had been listed when he went looking for information, and the same went for the date of her funeral. So close to Empire Day, and the realisation that he might be responsible for her death had sat heavily in his mind back then, and now...

He mentally pushed the thought away, but couldn't help wondering if his father blamed him.

"... you are not going to Imperial Center, Luke," Vader snapped, and then there was silence. Luke remained where he was in front of the desk, arms crossed. After nearly a full minute, his father actually looked up from the datapad. "The Emperor, while he would most probably not be able to tell _where_ you are, or _who_ , would nonetheless note your presence... and even if he cannot, even if sending Mara Jade after you was a fluke, I'm not willing to let you close to him before you are ready."

Luke's stiff stance softened somewhat and he tilted his head, honestly surprised at the rather extensive explanation he had suddenly been given. He grimaced and considered defending himself, or point out that surely nothing would happen this time, and even if it _did_ , he was more trained now. He snapped his mouth closed, nothing at all said, when Vader looked at him again, the weight of his gaze forbiddingly heavy even from behind the mask.

"You will spend the week with an agent of mine. I expect you to behave, Luke."

Staring at his father, Luke couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. All the opportunities he was, technically, being given, just like that, depending on the capabilities of this agent. Straightening up, Luke nodded. He could leave, he knew that. 

He could... a lot of things. 

He wouldn't. But he _would_ , definitely, attempt to contact Leia.

Surely that would be doable, he thought as he left to actually pack and change, since there was three-quarters of an hour left until they dropped out of hyperspace.

***  
Bag at his feet and standing beside his father as the mottled blue turned into the sharp, distorted lines of stars and then resolved itself into proper flickering dots spread out across space above and around Kuat, Luke felt his breath catch. He swayed forward, wanting to get closer to the viewport and cut out as much space between him and the giant ship spread out in space before them as possible, but stopped himself before even one foot had left the ground.

They were on the bridge, and he couldn't just storm up to the viewport and press the front of his mask to it to stare, no matter how much he wanted to. At least his reaction, his eagerness and disappointment both, had one positive result; his father felt a little more open in the Force suddenly, and vague amusement filtered across the bond.

Luke didn't even bother with a mental huff, instead focusing on the sprawling hull of the _Executor_ , gleaming in the sunlight cast from Kuat's sun, where she was docked to the huge metal ring that circled the planet and served as the famous shipyards of Kuat. The hull was nearly complete from engines to bow, but there were spots where large sections of hull plating was still missing. Mostly that just emphasised how large the _Executor_ actually was, as those spots were small against the sea of finished plating.

Like the holo of her, the real thing was a delicate arrowhead design that was sleeker and smoother than a regular Star Destroyer, the only uneven part of the hull the central island which, from where they stood and compared to the overall size of the ship, looked small. Luke knew it wasn't - _couldn't_ be, not with the _Executor's_ size, and his breath caught again.

 _She's beautiful,_ he said, feeling about as breathless while speaking across their connection as he did physically, despite that it was quite impossible for him to lose his breath _telepathically_.

 _You will get a closer look,_ his father said and turned on his heel, forcing Luke to quickly pick his bag up and hurry after the swaying cloak as it flared out behind Vader at each stride he took.

Compared to the trip to Sentinel Moon, Vader piloted the shuttle they took to dock with the Drive Yards himself, Luke playing co-pilot even if there wasn't much to do on such a short trip. What he did get, though, _was_ a closer look; they followed the length of the _Executor_ around the whole way, the size of her even more apparent like this.

What was also apparent was her many weapons and hangars, and Luke, when they docked and he was following behind his father as he strode beside the Overseer, started to actually _think_ about how and against _who_ this beautiful ship would be used against when she was finished. Grimacing behind his mask, Luke glanced around gleaming corridors that was, much like Sentinel Moon had been, in a partially-constructed state with large sections of panelling removed.

There was, however, no slaves here; apparently the Kuat Drive Yards didn't employ any, at least so far of what Luke could see, and that... was a relief. Or maybe his father wouldn't abide any slaves working on his own flagship. Either way, relief or not, it didn't diminish the fact that the Empire used slaves and that they existed elsewhere. Luke hoped it was both his father and that it hopefully said at least a little about the current owners of the Drive Yards that they would not use slaves. Though, there was no telling how well-paid their properly employed workers were...

_Luke. This way._

Blinking, he looked up, startled to notice that they were _not_ walking back to the shuttle... Well, Vader _had_ said he wasn't going to Imperial Center, and he'd reviewed the hyperspace jumps they were due for; after Kuat there was only one left, and that one was straight to Imperial Center. So if he wasn't going there this was basically the only place he _could_ meet said agent.

Frowning as he followed his father through the corridors, Luke wondered who this 'agent' even was. A week wasn't long, and he'd spent far longer with a few other people, both before and after meeting (being captured by) Vader, but the fact that his father was willing to trust him with this agent was... either it was telling, or it was just proof of how little options Vader had available to him. The latter was... kind of concerning, actually, but Luke couldn't figure out exactly _why_ that was.

"... Where are we going?" Luke kept his voice low as they stepped through the five airlocks in one of the docking rings that kept the _Executor_ locked to the Drive Yards orbiting Kuat, and while his father didn't stop or slow down, there was a slight tilt to his helm.

"It's not far from here."

It also wasn't an _answer_ , Luke thought grumpily, but kept his peace, because that was, admittedly, more of an answer than he'd expected, to be fair. There weren't any viewports to see anything out of the corridors they walked through, but they turned left at an intersection and walked down a short stretch of corridor towards an airlock by which a woman stood leaning against the wall.

"Lord Vader---"

"Inside," Vader snapped, gesturing sharply and interrupting her as she pushed away from the wall, straightening up. Luke rolled his eyes behind his mask and eyed the woman as she gave Vader a sloppy salute, then eyed him where he stood partly behind the Dark Lord, and then turned around and opened the airlock.

"All yours, boss," she said, gesturing at the airlock before she stepped inside and Vader, with Luke on his heels, followed her. She made him think, vaguely, of the shippers and, in the case of Han, _smugglers_ he'd seen with the vest, simple pants and boots she wore, though she added a personal sort of flair with a cap and goggles on top.

As soon as they'd passed through the airlock into the ship beyond and the door had closed, Luke was pulled forward with a gentle grip on his shoulder. Without being asked, he triggered the mask open and pulled his helmet off, blinking a little to adjust, because the visor had an automatic adjustment of some sort and it was darker in here than he'd thought it was.

"Doctor Aphra," Vader said, and the woman - Aphra - straightened up a little, looking away from her relatively surreptitious staring of him that she'd been doing, "this is my son, Luke. Your responsibility will be to keep him unharmed and within your sight at all times."

"... not at literally all times, I hope," Luke muttered and rolled his eyes, spotting Aphra biting her lip to smother a slight smirk before she straightened up, looking about as serious Luke had a feeling that she _could_ look. Which was pretty serious, actually. 

His father, meanwhile, had ignored his little comment, though the hand on his shoulder tightened a fraction.

"I'll keep him safe for you, Lord Vader, don't worry about _anything_. Can't claim the _Ark Angel_ is child proof, but since he's older than that we shouldn't have any issues," Aphra said and winked - _winked_ \- at Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith and the Emperor's right hand man. 

Luke was about as impressed that she'd done that at all as he was that his father didn't react to it. Instead Vader simply turned to face him, his other hand landing firmly on his shoulder, below the pauldron, but his father didn't _say anything_ , even after having done that. 

Luke was starkly aware of Aphra standing just a few steps away, _staring_ at them... but he could understand why, even if it was sometimes easy to forget it; Darth Vader didn't _touch people_. And even if he did so with Luke, it wasn't actually that often.

Far less often than Luke might wish, at any rate.

 _Father..?_ he inquired softly over their connection, unable to hide the little smile that slipped out, even if he did manage to resist the urge to raise a hand and squeeze one of Vader's wrists. He was pretty sure his father wouldn't tolerate that with an audience, which was quite hypocritical since Vader _was_ touching _him_.

 _Behave, Luke._ It was just a repeat of his earlier exhortation, but it was coloured with other things, which his father didn't hide quickly enough; possessiveness, worry, reluctance.

 _I'm not going to run away,_ Luke said, shaking his head slightly as the large, gloved hands on his shoulders tightened for a moment and the dark sense of his father's Force presence swelled sharply.

_... I know._

Luke was hard pressed to not point out that Vader sounded very hesitant there, but well. He wasn't staying willingly because he agreed with his father, the Empire, or anything else. He was staying _for his father_ , and Luke very distinctly didn't think about what he was planning to try to do with his pathetically bare-bones knowledge of Sentinel Moon at the first chance he got.

 _There are, on the other hand, many other situations you could get into, while out of my sight and in the hands of an agent who does not have the Force,_ Vader said, his mental voice deepening into knowing reproach, and Luke stifled a grin. _So behave, son._

His stomach made a little flip, like it sometimes did when his father called him that, and he nodded.

"I will, don't worry." And maybe he shouldn't have said that out loud, but watching Aphra's expression out of the corner of his vision go from squint-eyed and confused suspicion into a startled jerk was amusing. His father gave a warning squeeze to his shoulders and, finally, stepped back.

"I'm sure you will," he said dryly and then turned his helmet a shade towards Aphra, "a week from now, Doctor. You have the coordinates for the rendezvous." Then he abruptly turned, cloak swirling around his legs, and stormed away. 

Though in the Force his father was not retreating quite that quickly, and there was a tendril of awareness that lingered long after the airlock that led out of the _Ark Angel_ had cycled close behind him.


	47. Rogue Archaeology I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Aphra have their first exchange, and Luke isn't surprised at his father's paranoia.

"So!"

Jerking at the bright voice and Aphra clapping her hands together, Luke twisted around to face her, trying to figure out... what to say, what to do next. How this would even _go_ , because unlike being dumped on the _Accuser_ , he had at least met Piett beforehand and not had to go immediately to the other Star Destroyer. Here, he'd been almost literally shoved at this Doctor Aphra seconds after meeting her, and while he could, he supposed, walk out the airlocks and run to catch up with his father, he also knew that wasn't possible.

In that moment, staring at the cheerful face that still contained an edge of some sort, Luke rather missed the little yacht he'd taken from the Organas, and travelling with Artoo and Threepio. He'd had a lot of freedom with that, and Artoo and Threepio were great travel companions. Well. Artoo more than Threepio, maybe, but Luke wouldn't trade Threepio away for _anything_ , honestly.

"Um..."

"Let's get you settled, hm? And then we leave as soon as the boss has taken that fleet of his and left, junior" Aphra said, turning around and waving for Luke to follow. He did follow after a moment of staring after her, a grimace on his face for that off-hand 'junior' she'd tossed at him. Even if he _did_ share more than his father's last name - former or not - he wouldn't really want to be called _junior_. Shaking his head, he caught up with her and slowed down to walk beside her.

"Where are we going? And could you... not call me 'junior'?"

They were of a height, more or less, though she was slimmer yet - but he could see the suggestion of muscles in her bare arms, so while she looked no more substantial than what he had seen some of the lords and ladies at the Alderaanian court, clearly she packed some physical strength despite immediate appearances.

"We'll do a random jump and then we'll see," she said, waving his question away, "the boss was clear the first destination shouldn't be a preset one, so that's what we'll do." Aphra paused then, glancing over at him with a narrow look that spoke as much of amusement as it did of a question. "Gotta call you _something_ , little lordling, I'm pretty sure I should show some sort of respect."

"Little... _please don't_ ," Luke groaned and Aphra laughed, her amusement sharp in the air, "you don't... have to do that. At all. I'm just... Luke." He shrugged, hoping she'd drop the half-serious, half-joking titles. He might be Darth Vader's son, but he wasn't at all interested in being addressed with either some actual version of 'lord', or worse 'junior'. He had the Skywalker name, of course, but he wasn't... actually named after his father, Luke knew that. Sometimes while growing up he'd rather wished that he _had been_ , but he also liked his name just as it was, and what it meant.

And it didn't surprise him at all that Vader had ordered them to make a random jump first _after_ Death Squadron had left. It seemed a bit excessive, no one knew he was _here_ (with Aphra, or with his father on the _Devastator_ ), but he could also admit that maybe that much paranoia wasn't unwarranted. Maybe.

"Just Luke, huh?" Aphra made a non-committal noise and opened a door, revealing a small cabin. "Feel free to put your stuff in here and I'll give you the half-credit tour before we make the jump."

Figuring this would be 'his' cabin for the next week, Luke tossed the bag he'd been carrying inside without thinking much about it, followed by the Inquisitor helmet, then turned back around - and paused.

"Just give me a moment," he muttered and actually went inside, accidentally kicking the helmet and sending it rolling up against the bed. Ignoring Aphra as she leaned against the frame, Luke started to pull off the armour that he wore with the Inquisitor outfit, dropping the chestpiece, shoulderguard and vambraces in a pile by the wall, next to the very tiny desk the cabin sported. He took the time to kick the helmet over to the armour pile and turned around with a grin, running a hand through his hair.

"Okay, let's go." He'd change into something else later, because keeping the Inquisitor uniform on when he didn't have to didn't appeal, but without the armour it was much more comfortable and he could stand it for a bit longer.

The _Ark Angel_ was compact, but had more than enough space for just a single person - something Aphra countered by having mechanical parts, tools, pieces of weapons or whole weapons basically _everywhere_. They never tripped over anything, because corridors or similar spaces were kept free of parts, but that didn't stop the rest of the ship from being cluttered with it. Or stop Aphra from apparently having a designated room for what the rest of the ship was already filled with.

"Workshop," she said, waving into the sprawling room that once had clearly been some sort of small storage hold, almost turning around immediately to continue on, but she paused when she saw Luke still looking into the room with a... very familiar expression on his face. She grinned. "You're welcome to the stuff in here, if you want to keep busy."

Luke couldn't help it; he perked up, a grin on his face. It made him miss Minnie (and having built her) and Artoo and Threepio as well, though, but... nothing to do about that. Not for a long while, he was pretty sure, especially after forgetting to take the opportunity when he talked with Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen to ask about the droids he hoped Han _had_ given over to them.

"So..." Aphra said, and then she paused, her mischievous, inquisitive expression flattening out into something a little more thoughtful and she shook her head, "you know what, never mind."

"He _is_ my actual, biological father, if that's what you were wondering," Luke said, only glancing at Aphra from the edge of his vision, still staring at the roomful of parts. They called to him and he _really_ wanted to have a chance to dive into it, even more than he wanted to check over all the parts and tools scattered throughout the ship.

"A little," Aphra said, and her laughter was a bit nervous - she glanced around as if she expected Vader to simply form out of the shadows and strike her down for doubting. Luke didn't bother to say that he _wouldn't_ do that. His father probably didn't care if he was believed as long as he was _obeyed_ , especially in this.

"But I actually don't want to know," she continued with a shrug, "come on. I should make that jump."

"Don't want to know _what_?" Luke asked, confused, as he followed her through the ship and up into the cockpit.

"Who he was. _Before_." Aphra shook her head, pressing a single button on the navicomp before she slid into the pilot's seat and the maglev locks and tractor beams were disconnected, leaving the ship floating away from the docking ring. Eyebrows rising up in the air, Luke snorted.

"He---"

"Ah!" Aphra threw a hand up between them, smiling easily, "I said I didn't want to know, little lordling. It won't change anything... but it also _will_." With that rather lacking explanation, she waved a hand to the copilot's seat, and Luke obeyed the implicit order - mostly because he did need to be sitting for this part, not because of anything else. He didn't exactly understand why Aphra was suddenly uninterested in knowing, now that she had someone available that _would_ know.

Well, maybe he could ask her later.

The navicomputer beeped a few minutes before they were clear enough of the Drive Yards and Kuat to make the jump, and Luke watched, curious, when they made the jump.

"So... where are we going?"

Aphra chuckled, shrugged, and leaned back in her chair, tossing her feet up on the control panel, "Not a clue, Luke. I have a few pre-set coordinates the navicomp can cycle through for quick exits, but it's on a randomiser."

Blinking at the starlines stretched out in front of and around them outside the cockpit viewport, Luke turned his head to stare at Aphra, who was leaned back in her seat as easy as you please, hands behind her head.

"So we... don't even know how long we're gonna be in hyperspace?"

"Nope," Aphra said cheerfully.


	48. Imperial Center Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara makes her report, Vader gets stuck with somebody unwanted for the Death Squadron's command. And also has a few unpleasant thoughts about the imperial palace.

Far above the Jewel of Imperial Might, the Queen of the Core as she would always be known, as Coruscant or Imperial Center, ships blinked in and out of hyperspace constantly. The rate might be somewhat raised and the tempo somehow a little more hectic these days before Empire Day, but otherwise it was business as usual.

Even many of those Star Destroyers that were dropping in weren't that unusual as such, though the number of them were by now edging past the fleets that were normally stationed around Imperial Center. From one of those Star Destroyers a Lambda-class shuttle detached itself, and brought its passenger down to the surface and even all the way to the imperial palace.

The Second Sister cast a disinterested glance up to the arches rising above her head as she walked the corridors, swathed in shadow and glittering with lights as they were. The building was old, and Mara wasn't superstitious, so age was what she attributed the slight film of unsettled darkness that clung to everything to. That, or the Dark Side, emanating as it did from the Emperor, and seeming to vibrate up through the floor...

Though that was probably ridiculous. Or maybe, when Palpatine took the Jedi Order's headquarters for his own, he'd done such a solid job of squashing the Light, even in this place where it had been a core of the Light Side for thousands of years, that the Dark now filled it up so much it was emanating from every polished surface and crack between stones...

Shaking those thoughts away, Mara knelt for the Emperor when she entered, ignoring the advisors who left. Slithering, twitching shadows of slime was what they were, nothing more.

"Your Highness."

"Come, stand, stand. No need to burden your knees," the Emperor said with a chuckle, waving her forward and up. Mara stood. "Was your visit to the moon enlightening, my dear?"

Shuffling through her thoughts, the Second Sister of the Inquisitorus nodded sharply, hand landing reflexively on her lightsaber.

"The Grand Moff seems solid enough in his plans and in his dedication to follow _yours_ , Your Highness. Some of the high command... are harbouring dreams of using the power available as _they_ see fit, instead of following _your_ vision, however."

A moment of silence, and then Emperor Palpatine chuckled softly, waving a hand in dismissal.

"Of course they are. Distance lends courage. Anything else?"

Mara blinked, and definitely didn't think about her embarrassing display and confrontation while standing guard outside Tarkin and Vader's meeting. She wouldn't be bringing _that_ to the Emperor's attention; not when she didn't have the power or the position to back up her ambitions. So after a beat, she shook her head.

"No, Your Highness."

Darth Sidious stared for several long, silent moments, his gold gaze almost hidden in the shadows of his hood, before a slow smile cleaved his face.

"Good. Come, my dear. We're about to have visitors."

Sliding back into her usual spot when she stood next to the throne, Mara eyed the imperial naval officer who came through the doors a few minutes later. She didn't find much impressive about him.

***  
Death Squadron hung like a wedge-shaped pendant in stationary orbit over Imperial Center, keeping apace with the planet's turning to keep themselves right above the Imperial Palace. From the ground - or rather, striding towards the entrance and looking up - the Star Destroyers were nothing more than smudged glimmers far above, but seemed far more attractive than the building Darth Vader was about to enter.

A building that instilled nothing less but choking rage and a deep-seated, burning bitterness in Vader. For once, though, he _almost_ didn't mind; thinking about the Imperial Palace, what it was, had been, and what he'd rather it be, was a far safer subject than what he _actually_ wanted to think about. 

What he _actually_ wanted to do.

That topic, though, was off-limits for the boy's own safety, since while his master might need to go _looking_ for the information, information he didn't even know was there to find, and _he_ would notice if he did... but that was not safe enough, not enough _precautions_. Because of that, Vader let the shadows of the Imperial Palace's entrance pull up every single misgiving and angry, bitter rage he harboured over the fact that the Jedi Temple still stood.

That it might not look the same inside aside from the sweeping arcs holding up the ceiling in the entrance hall and the general architecture, didn't matter. It was still the Jedi Temple. He could find the part in one of the winding galleries that once had been a room, _his_ room, with no difficulty at all. He could find the refectory (now containing a fountain garden), he could find the library (the same thing, but of course all the datapads and other such data storage that the Jedi had collected and stored there were gone).

Leather creaking as he closed his hands into fists and pressed his fingers together, Darth Vader suppressed a growl that didn't escape past the ravaged meat of his throat. Pain flared and danced up from every livid stump of his limbs as he stormed through the polished corridors, the echo of years old footsteps chasing after him. He couldn't escape this place. He had thought, he had been _sure_ , that his master would raze the Temple after the Jedi had been purged from it.

What else made sense, considering the threat and the depth of betrayal? They had to make _sure_ the peace would last, and any evidence of the Jedi still standing... But no, the Emperor had smiled, beatific, when he'd come back to the newly dubbed Imperial Center six months after the end of the Clone Wars and had met his master _in the Jedi Temple_.

The Imperial Palace, now, his master had hummed, jagged voice soft in the noise of reconstruction and redecoration. We will make it a symbol of our new order, since removing such a... stable landmark would only increase concern and worry. We should _ease_ our citizens' worries, shouldn't we, my friend? Especially after all this... upheaval, three long years of it and more!

Grinding his teeth together brought up a headache that seldom went away to the fore, but it speared down into the dark that smothered this place, pulsed underneath the polished stone and marble, and rushed up to cloak him in fur-soft and galactic-deep _hate_. He was nothing but rage, and yet impotent to change anything. Tied to his master's wishes, since, after all, no matter what he had done, Palpatine had also produced _results_.

Maybe not ones as he had imagined, maybe not _where_ and as he wanted them, but naïve word-views would always be crushed---

Bright, pale eyes flicked up at him from under tightly braided pale hair, and he had no idea if those eyes had been blue, if it had been blonde hair that the Theelin sported, but it didn't matter. His mind slotted in the right colours and the face shifted, and Vader suddenly remembered one of many times another pair of blue eyes had looked up at him from that angle. Deep-seated impotence threaded through the hate paled and shattered. 

The world slid neatly back into place; colour returned from flat, interference-riddled gray, and he remembered he had _plans_.

The irate pace he'd been tearing through the palace with smoothed out somewhat, his strides lengthened and the energy that had been escaping him collecting itself a little, the broad shoulders settling less harshly tense under the heavy armour. Not much change, but it made a world of difference for the bleeding and rage-edged apathy that had swallowed him somewhere between the entrance and the doors to the Emperor's private throne room.

He had, perhaps, miscalculated a shade. 

He had meant to keep his thoughts occupied, not... Hand landing on his lightsaber, Vader didn't stop his advance towards the doors. He had forgotten the darkness that now lurked in the Imperial Palace. A danger, because the palace was still so tied to the _Light_ that had been here when it was still the Jedi Temple in his mind. Mindful, that was what he needed to be. Not lost in rage or wallowing like a sentimental fool. Merely... careful.

Pulling this around himself like stepping out into the thundering hammer of the sunlight at double noon on Tatooine, Darth Vader strode through the doors of a small throne room, one which almost could be an office as well, with light pouring in from all the windows that made up nearly all of the walls of the tower.

He didn't flinch. Not at the familiar arc of the windows or the pattern on the floor; this, at least, he was inured to, and merely went to kneel in front of his master.

Paid no attention to the man with him, or the girl at his master's back - as always, the Second Sister was doing a poor job of masking her frustration and personal antipathy, though that, of course, only served to amuse his master. He spared Mara Jade not a single glance, merely stood when Palpatine gestured for him to do so.

"Stand, stand, old friend. No need for ceremony here, in such an intimate gathering," he said, a smile only barely visible from among the shadows of his hood, backlit as he was from the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Darth Vader stood as bidden, silent and well-practiced... though, admittedly he'd had a few outbursts in this room, in another life.

"You undoubtedly wish to get settled for our Empire Day festivities, Lord Vader, which is why I was of the mind to deal with the bureucratical nonsense immediately," his master said, slow and sweet - poison underneath - and gestured to the naval officer standing beside him - Read Admiral Kendal Ozzel, if he wasn't _completely_ off-base. Vader flicked his glance aside, confirming his assumptions, but as that didn't even come with so much as a twitch of his helmet, Ozzel's expression tightened a little. So easily provoked...

"I will, of course, leave the issue of the position of captain of your future flagship to you, my friend. Such a position ought to be filled with some delicacy and eye for future cooperation, should it not?" Another almost-smile, not really hiding the edge underneath. 

Palpatine wanted to know who he potentially trusted enough to _put_ in this position. That was the only reason he was given leave to do this at his own whim. And normally, if things were different, Vader might have felt contrary enough, _wary_ enough, to choose someone who might be less useful. But as the situation was, Piett would simply have to prove himself.

"Thank you, my master," Vader said, his first few words since he arrived, and the vibrating roll of them seemed to slip into the shadows. His master tilted his head minutely, then twitched a hand in dismissal.

"Of course, Lord Vader. But as important as the captain of your flagship is, a good leadership of the whole of the Death Squadron must, of course, be assured... I have taken the recommendation by some knowledgeable voices and present to you former Rear-Admiral, now Admiral Ozzel."

He had known, of course. It was either as captain of the Executor or as admiral of the Death Squadron this man was here, right now. He didn't like it, however. He'd never worked with Ozzel before, but he wasn't unaware of the service record of any of the officers in the higher echelons, and what he knew of Ozzel...

"Admiral," was all Vader said, however, now turning to actually face the man, staring down right at him. The man in question shifted, then straightened up, as if aware of broadcasting his anxiety.

"Lord Vader. A pleasure."

Most certainly _not_. For _either_ of them. His patience for this sort of thing would always be running thin - before, elsewhere, elsewhen, when he was young and naïve, he'd had more patience and drive when _both_ parties, at least, wished for cooperation. Such was not the case here. He had no desire to 'play nice' with Admiral Kendal Ozzel. What he'd seen of the man hadn't impressed him so far, and Ozzel would have to work against the opinion he'd already formed.

"I have tasks to attend to. Master..?" Turning away from Ozzel, he twitched down into a bow. Palpatine chuckled, apparently amused by their by-play and the way Ozzel's expression tightened, his skin flushing redder for a moment in the tint behind his mask before it went back into the regular reddish cast.

"You may leave, Lord Vader. Imperial Center may indeed have need of your attention."

A deeper bow this time, and then Darth Vader strode out, leaving the room that, red tint or no red tint, would always be washed in blood for him.


End file.
